Note: **looks around nervously and whispers** I'm starting another story. Don't kill me.
Summary: Seto's fired his 134th intern and Mokuba's fed up. In hopes of building tolerance, Mokuba makes a bet. "Seto Kouryuu" must find and keep a day job for the next two months.
Bank Blues
By Lizeth Hallington
ww w.geocities.co m/lizeth_hal (take out the spaces)
Chapter 1 - The Challenge
Mokuba Kaiba flattened himself against the wall to avoid being run over by 29 year old woman. A 29 year old woman who wasn't looking where she was going because she was too busy wiping tears out of her eyes as she ran out the building.
The 11 year old boy pressed his lips together, a frown marring his forehead, and continued up the steps. Pushing open the door, he walked into the office slowly, straining to hear the whispered conversations around him.
"...such a bastard..."
"...if he didn't pay so well..."
"...colder than a grave..."
"...just because she forgot..."
"...Ssshhh! His brother's here!"
Mokuba's steps had been getting stiffer as he listened, until he was downright stalking down the hallway in an unconscious imitation of his brother on a bad day. The office workers around him hastily shuffled back to their respective working areas and tried to look diligent, sneaking frightened glances his way.
For some reason, that did nothing at all for the little Kaiba's mood and when he reached his big brother's door, he brushed past the secretary without a word and practically slammed the door open.
"Mokuba," the brown haired CEO chided calmly, not looking up from his laptop, "What have I told you about slamming doors?"
The younger boy took a deep breath and carefully shut the door behind him. Turning back to his brother, the little Kaiba crossed his arms defiantly. "Seto, we need to talk," he said flatly.
Okay, now he had Seto's attention. The CEO tore his gaze from the computer screen to arch an eyebrow at his younger brother. Mokuba was the only person he'd ever allowed to call him "Seto", but the black-haired Kaiba usually preferred a more reverent "Nii-sama". And if that wasn't enough, the "we need to talk" line was a classic that raised alarm bells in every teenager's mind.
"Oh?" Seto asked.
"Turn off the laptop, Nii-sama."
"Mokuba-"
"Turn it off!"
Seto sighed and closed the sleek silver laptop, knitting his fingers together in front of him instead. He rested his chin on his hands and watched his little brother expectantly.
Mokuba huffed and dragged another chair over to the desk before clamouring up to sit. Even now his brother was the picture of a perfectly composed boss, waiting indifferently for a flustered worker to spill his life problems.
"Nii-sama..." Mokuba began, unsure about how to present his thoughts.
"Hai?"
An exasperated growl. "Would you stop that!"
Both eyebrows rose. "Stop what?"
"Being so patronizing!" the younger Kaiba hissed.
Seto, for his part, was beginning to look disturbed. His little brother actually looked mad... at him... and he couldn't remember the last time that happened.
"Moku-"
"Do you know what they're calling you out there?" the boy interrupted, pointing at the door.
Seto frowned. "I don't pretend to care-"
"Well I care. Because I know it's not true. It's not true is it, Nii-sama?" the younger boy insisted.
"Moku-"
"Why did you fire that woman?" Mokuba queried, cutting him off.
"How do you know I fired her?"
"Nii-sama, she ran out of the building crying with a box under her arm. What else could it be?"
"Winning the lottery?" Seto said flatly.
"Nii-sama! You have the worst sense of humour!" Mokuba huffed.
Seto favoured his little brother with a flat look. "Look, Mokuba," he began patiently, "She forgot to turn in her report-"
"Was it a really, really, important, essential report?"
"Well, no, but-"
"Would the company have crashed if she'd turned it in tomorrow instead?"
"Well, no, but-"
"Then Nii-sama-"
"-But I expect my workers to be punctual and efficient with in their duties. I can't afford-"
"Afford?" Mokuba exclaimed. "Nii-sama, we're Kaibas. We don't ask about prices; we can afford it," he said, deadpan.
"Mokuba..."
"Nii-sama!" Mokuba near-wailed and wilted, suddenly looking more sad than furious. "Nii-sama, did you know that the people out there are scared of me? Some of them 30 years older than I am and they're scared of me, not because of me but because of you," he said, slightly accusingly.
Seto sighed. "Don't let it bother you."
"It's not that easy!" Mokuba countered. "It's the same thing at school! My teachers are all terrified of you."
Seto arched an eyebrow. That was a problem?
"Nii-sama, just... lighten up a little. You've fired 133 interns this year alone. 134 counting that woman."
Seto snorted a bit. "I can't believe you've kept count. I'm running a company, Mokuba, can't I ask for excellence from my employees?"
"Excellence, yes. Perfection, no."
"I'm not asking for perfection..."
"Aren't you?"
A pause. "...Maybe."
Mokuba sighed. "It's not easy being one of the little people, you know."
"Oh?" Seto said, catching the duality of the term and sounding slightly amused.
Mokuba scowled. "Yeah! I bet you wouldn't survive a week with that attitude!"
"Attitude?" Seto repeated flatly.
"Attitude!"
Seto reached again for his laptop. "Mokuba, please. I have work..."
Mokuba stood on his chair and put his hands on his hips, glaring down at his brother. "I challenge you!" he declared, eyes glinting.
Seto looked slightly incredulous, then suspicious. "What sort of challenge?"
"I bet you can't get and keep a day job from now until the end of summer break."
"Mokuba, that's two months."
"Uh huh."
"I have a company to run! I can't just-"
"Excuses, excuses..."
"Mokuba..." Seto said warningly.
The little boy shook his head. "I'm serious, Nii-sama. You know what it's like to be the employer. Can you handle being the employee?" Mokuba taunted.
Seto narrowed his eyes. He was being suckered into something he'd regret later. He just knew it. "Last two months? That's your challenge?"
"Uh huh."
There was a tense silence as the brothers stared each other down in near-identical poses.
"I get to pick where I work," Seto finally said.
"Fine. But you can't be a manager or anything. You have to work."
"Fine."
"Spit-shake," Mokuba demanded, jumping off the chair.
Seto pulled a face. "Mokuba, that's disgusting."
"C'mon, Nii-sama. Seal the deal," the little boy wheedled. Spitting on his palm, the 11 year old held out his hand expectantly.
Seto sniffed and glared haughtily at the offered hand for a full minute, before finally rolling his eyes in resignation. Spitting into his own palm, he grasped his little brother's hand and shook it firmly once. He grimaced. "Deal."
"Deal!" Mokuba chirped, looking satisfied.
Kami, I know I'm going to regret this. Kaiba thought, lips pressed in a line. "Right, now, we are so washing our hands," he ordered in monotone, grabbing his little brother and tucking the boy under one arm as he headed for his private washroom.
"Niiii-saaamaaaaa!" Mokuba whined as he was carted off like a sack of meat. "Pumme down! Besides, you should get used to the public washrooms! You won't have a private one where you work."
Seto missed a step.
Dammit, I knew I was going to regret this.
Some time, much later...
In an unnamed urban office...
Thump. Someone sat down and watched his young blue-eyed, brown-haired co-worker in amusement.
Clickety-clackety-clickety-clack- The sound of the keyboard resounded in the silent office. Clickety-clackety-click-click-CLACK
"-What?" an impatient voice finally snapped.
A smile. "I observe the Workaholic in his native environment and stand utterly in awe," a wry voice announced. "You take my breath away, Kouryuu."
Seto exhaled heavily, totally unamused. "Get your ass off my desk, Yukai," the brown-haired teen ordered dryly, not bothering to spare the older man a glance. It was amazing how fast one's language could deteriorate given time.
"Seto Kouryuu" had been an employee of the Domino City Bank for the last two weeks, (four days, two hours, fifty-seven minutes and counting) working in the upper levels of the downtown building, developing and testing a new database system.
Of course, it was supposed to be a team effort, but Seto was loath to surrender any piece of his program into another's clumsy hands, so he was often found working overtime. The other programmers had, for the most part, recognised the fact that the young prodigy was... shall we say... antisocial, and left him pretty well alone.
All, that is, except one...
There was always one.
Seto rubbed his temples as the man on his desk babbled on, completely oblivious to the rising ire of his single audience.
"Yukai-san," Seto ground out, accenting the honorary. "In case your sight is going in your old age, please leave because I am trying to work-"
"It's lunch break," Yukai pointed out, waving at the clock on the wall. At the age of 26, he didn't exactly consider himself "old-age" material, but compared to Seto, he supposed there was a bit of an age difference. How old was the kid again? 16? 17?
"Lunch break doesn't start for another three minutes," Seto said in monotone, resuming his typing.
Ankyo Yukai rolled his eyes. "You're amazing, Kouryuu. You have absolutely no appreciation for the noble art of Slacking."
"Frankly, I'm surprised you haven't been fired yet," Seto remarked, still typing.
Yukai shook his head and sighed dramatically. "It doesn't work that way."
Seto stopped typing abruptly and glared. "What doesn't work what way?"
The older programmer grinned, placing a hand on Seto's shoulder companionably. "Worker's Code of Conduct states that we gotta try to wheedle as much break time as we can. It's the balance of nature," he explained, "We try to slack off and the manager tries to get us to work. It's just the way the world turns," he announced importantly, but all he received in return was a flat, disbelieving look.
"So, you haven't been fired... why?" Seto reiterated, brushing the hand off his shoulder brusquely.
"Not everyone has a stick up their ass like you do, Kouryuu," Yukai teased and proceeded to shut the laptop on Seto's fingers.
The blue-eyed teen yanked his hands out of the way and bit back a yelp. Turning to face his co-worker directly, the duellist glared in full force, barely shaking with suppressed fury. "Don't - do - that," he ordered lowly in his best pissed-off-CEO voice.
Yukai's eyes widened and he gulped, smiling nervously as he backed up instinctively. "Uh... Your three minutes are up," he explained, averting his gaze and raising his hands up in a peaceful gesture.
Ice blue eyes were narrowed into slits behind clear, non-prescription glasses. Mokuba had insisted that it Seto buy a pair to complete his "Clark Kent" disguise. Hey, he'd said, glasses worked for Superman, right? Why not for a CEO turned antisocial programmer?
Diligently fighting faulty, misbehaved java codes by day. Managing a high-tech, multi-million corporate company by night (after 5 p.m. when his hours ended).
...That, Seto decided, would be the last time he'd let his little brother read stupid American mangas.
With a huff, the world-class duellist broke the glare and stood in one graceful movement, straightened his starched, button-down shirt, and stalked out of his cramped office without another word.
...
...Damn. Yukai thought, drawing a deep breath. That kid can be scary!
TBC
End Notes: Okay well... I've never worked in an office situation before, so it's probably full of inaccuracies. I do have a friend who did her comp. science co-op term testing for the Bank of Montreal though, which is partly where this idea came from. Also, it's based off my ideas of a Western workplace, despite the Japanese overtones. I'm pretty sure the Japanese have a different attitude towards working. x_x Right.
Review!!! Please?