Title: No Strings Attached
A/N This fic feels strange. Well, it's not perfect, but it's done! Rated M for some implied sexual content.
Beta: ASlaveToWords
Written for Compy's Contest. Enjoy!
The blonde had barely gotten a couple hours' rest, but his eyes wouldn't let him go back to sleep; the unfamiliar room was getting brighter by the minute. The sun was about to show up, he judged from the greyish glow behind the curtains. He wished he was in his own futon, in his own flat and in his own... clothes.
His mouth tasted like gastric juices, and a quick run of his tongue over his teeth revealed a rough texture. The night before was sort of a blur. Jou remembered dancing with lusty strangers, as he did almost every other night (so, no surprise here). He was offered drinks by the twenty-something bartender with the oddly coloured hair (he really looked like Yami!), realizing two hours too late he actually was Yuugi's darker half. He recalled, not so clearly, the old friend patiently supporting Jou as he threw up disgracefully, immediately volunteering to walk him home. Little did Joey know the sneaky pharaoh had meant his own home!
Jou he rolled over to take a good look at his host, sound asleep. Yami's hand had made its way to his own crotch, hidden beneath a pair of once black jeans. It was cute, knowing the pharaoh would probably kill his guest for seeing him vulnerable like this.
Seven years had turned him into a fine looking man. The exposed torso and tall frame made him look much older than Jou knew he really was; maybe that was the reason it took him four beers, three cocktails and eight free shots before he finally recognized him at the bar. Yami in a sexy body of his own – too good to be true! Not that it was easy for Jou, back then, on the dance floor, to focus on anyone else but those racy black men lining up to sandwich him.
That was one of the reasons Jou had made his move to the big city and never came back; the men. In semi-rural Domino, no one had a problem with you being queer, as long as you kept it in the closet. Jou did not cross-dress or speak in a high pitched voice. He didn't want to be a kept man nor did he seek a long lasting relationship. He simply liked a constantly renewed meat market – and he absolutely refused to get involved with anyone he knew personally, not even for one night, one date, or one kiss.
Hence the internal struggle when he recognized Yami. Jou still felt like he didn't really know the man that well, despite sharing the same circle of friends and a lot of experiences, back in high school. The crushing realization that the pharaoh not only knew the former Jou, but had probably seen through him all this time, came over Jou. Through Yuugi's eyes, he'd had ample time to observe and analyze the hot-tempered Jou, the repressed Jou, the Jou who lost control whenever Kaiba was concerned.
In the end, Jou decided Yami was no stranger. Besides, he owed him for humouring his drunken chatter and constant retelling of their high school days during the long walk to his flat. He felt like an idiot for assuming the other had wanted to hear all about his fond memories of Yuugi and anecdotes about Honda... He hoped he hadn't stepped on too many landmines, but he was also aware Atemu wasn't the sensitive type, unlike his aibou. Picturing a sixteen year old Yuugi in his mind's eye, Jou wondered how he could make up for so many years of absence.
At any rate, he had to thank Atemu for the hospitality. The blonde's restaurant was closed today, and he knew he would be spending the day obsessing over what twist he could give which recipe or what innovative dish presentation he could come up with. Save for the moments he could smell a man's scent on his skin, Jou's mind was almost permanently hooked on work, food, work and food. Such was the curse of being a chef (although he would never dare referring to himself as one in a million years).
Trying to pass the time without waking up Yami, Jou looked out the only window of the room. It was nicely framed with oversized, baby blue curtains that seemed to capture the natural light and send it bouncing everywhere on the room's immaculate white walls. Surveying the monochrome buildings rising before him he saw a dry cleaner, a barber's salon and crane waiting for its human operators to let her stretch her limbs. Yami, an obvious night owl, lived in a typical commuter-town.
Inside, the flat was messy yet classy. A kitchenette started immediately next to the entrance door. Seated on a plum-coloured counter top, a stainless steel espresso machine reigned over a kingdom of empty ramen cups and RedBull cans. That was it; a one room apartment. Atemu probably spent most of his waking and sleeping hours outside of it, Jou thought.
His body thanked him with a throbbing headache when he stood up too quickly. A palm pressed against his forehead, Jou carefully made his way to the bathroom, trying to avoid knocking over the potted plants that seemed to spring from masses of leather clothing and imported cigarette packs scattered on the living room floor.
He silently closed the door behind him, and hurriedly splashed icy water all over his face and chest. For a good two minutes, he considered the man he saw in the mirror seriously. It was a historical day; in seven years, Jounouchi 'The Pup' Katsuya had spent a chaste night at another man's place.
As a result, the denims he'd been sleeping in now felt slightly constricting. He was more than happy to unzip them, as his bladder also urgently needed a release.
***
After going through the whole stack of Atemu's magazines – some on italian fashion, contemporary architecture and the obligatory male erotica – Jou ran out of willpower and stood up from the ceramic seat. There was no way he'd remain still or silent for one more second.
He didn't want to wake Yami up, but he just had to move! He had certainly beaten his own personal record of sitting still. Those 45 minutes in this tiny bathroom had felt like the longest of his life.
He heard a low voice rumbling something like 'dammit' from behind the door.
Jou's ears tensed. It looked like Yami didn't seem too happy being pulled from his slumber; but he might also have been sleep talking, Jou mused. He started brushing his teeth as hard as he could to get rid of his horrendous breath. The doorknob rattled a bit. Crimson eyes opened wide in surprise.
"Oh, Jou."
The man almost let it show that he was startled at the sight of the blonde, blushed as he'd just been caught using his host's toothbrush without permission. Yami didn't even seem to notice it. "I see you opted not to leave, after all."
He eyed his guest for a few seconds (that lasted much more for the blonde), and nonchalantly trotted to the mirror, looking for signs of fatigue on his sexy face.
"Hm", Jou managed to reply between two drools of the minty substance, spatting cautiously in the sink. "Mornin'." Silence grew thick between the two young men. Does that mean I told him about my habit of leaving first? Jou blushed even harder at his own idiocy and stepped towards the door tentatively... until something caught his attention.
From the corner of his eye, he could see Yami positioning himself in front of the toilet sink. Jou's feet were glued to the comfortable, heated tiles. "Yeah, changed my mind. Couldn't ditch you after all", he said awkwardly.
"Would you mind?" Jou was staring at his host's intimate parts absentmindedly, thus confirming they hadn't been intimately involved after all (he would definitely have remembered the monument). The blonde shook his head and strolled to the (very nearby) kitchen. "I'm gonna feed you". Jou immediately regretted his ambiguous choice of words, and started rummaging the cupboards nervously in hopes of finding something that was not processed and that could actually be mentioned in a cookbook.
"Do not be even tempted to look at the Gaggia, mortal", warned Yami over the sound toilet flushing. The self-designated chef took a quick look at the high-end espresso machine below him. "Don't worry, I ain't gonna play with your toys."
Yami smiled at Jou's umpteenth unintentional innuendo as he washed his hands. Somehow, good old Jou always found new ways to sound like a moron and make a fool of himself.
***
The pharaoh now sat on the floor, his elbows resting on a shiny black coffee table. He exhaled smoke through his nose and butted his ritual morning cigarette with one hand, then lifted a tiny cup to his lips with the other. He took in a daring sip of the hot liquid and hummed in satisfaction, his eyes still locked on a topless Jounouchi who was triumphantly vocalizing his successful flipping of French crepes.
Don't wanna get that shirt dirty, ya know. Bullocks! Yami hadn't bought it. If Jounouchi was skillful enough to send (very hot) food flying and have it land in the pan whence it came, Jou might as well do the whole act buck naked. That would actually be very pleasant to the pharaoh's eyes.
It works better when the pan's flat, but she'll do just fine. That the blonde gave his cookware a gender puzzled Atemu. To him, a pan was a pan, and it was a miracle he even had one at home. It might have been left there by the former tenants, or intentionally 'forgotten' by a past flame who'd been hoping to offer him private... cooking lessons. Either story was bound to displease the young chef, whose enthusiasm the other didn't want to curb.
It was quite entertaining to watch the lively beau in action, who thoughtfully kept him informed, every step of the process. He sat back and relaxed, enjoying the spectacle and the effortless conversation his friend was offering him. These gifts mattered more to him then the actual treat he was about to taste.
"Here ya go". A trio of elegantly folded crepes appeared in front of the master of the house. "Betcha never use all that fine china. I mean, it was full of dust. Full of dust!," he insisted, incredulous.
As tempting as the crepes were, Yami's stomach churned at the prospect of erring from its established routine. He bowed his head slightly, in gratitude and bravely forked a piece of the sugared crepes.
"Eat up! They cool fast", he urged, taking place in front of him with his own plate. Yami noticed Jou had kept the first botched crepes to himself. "You didn't choose a topping, so I used brown sugar and..." He went on, talking about salt and spices like he was talking about his Monster Cards. Spending time with Jounouchi was as refreshing as before.
He had changed in some ways and in some others he had not; he was still his own magnetic and radiant self, easily engrossed in the simple things he adored.
Even more so since he had come to terms with his sexual orientation – which left absolutely no room for doubt just a few hours ago. It was painful to watch and ridiculously obvious, back in Domino, that he was not into females, but it felt good to see Jou had blossomed into a marvellously. It was the impressive stamina, fit body and carefree aura of the blonde, whom people coincidently referred to as 'The Puppy' in the gay community, that had triggered the Pharaoh's curiosity in the bar yesterday, and now he had taken a liking to his personality, as well.
More; the very evolution that had taken place in the young man was captivating him. He ached to get to know the 'new and improved' Jou better.
"They are quite tasty". Yami managed to keep his voice low and cool under the internal attack of his gastric juices. Jou sported a bashful grin as he looked down on his plate, then up at his host, who was now smiling pleasantly. "Oh, it's just hot batter, ya know!" It was evident the blonde wanted to pay him back for the nursing, but one could immediately see he genuinely took pleasure in cooking for others.
***
The two men were standing in line behind a half-dozen public transit veterans. Jou insisted that the bartender had done enough for him already (I can walk, man, no problem); in turn, Yami stated firmly that he was to accompany him home (and he would cover the cab fare for both of them); in the end, the blonde won. Yami could wait with him for the tram but he'd have to go to bed immediately afterwords.
Jou didn't fail to notice his host hadn't brought his cigarettes with him for the wait, and he was secretly grateful.
The two young men stared in space, paying no attention to the shy glances of the drooling schoolgirl in front of them. It's not that they had nothing to talk about; Jou ached to ask him all the real questions, those they both had circumvented. He was actually embarrassed at how little they had actually shared despite their – his – quasi non-stop chatter.
He wondered if Yami wanted to ask him about him and Kaiba after all. If he did, he'd no longer suppress his need to ask him about the body. Jou regretted not having trusted his friends; if he had openly come out to them at the time, they'd have unconditionally accepted him for who he was and they would have stayed in contact and now he wouldn't know so little about Honda and Yuugi and... Kaiba's whereabouts. The certainty of his old friends' acceptance came to his mind, and with it, relief.
Yami had most likely known all along. And in fact, catching up with the past seven years didn't seem so important to Jou, as long as he didn't run away again and found the courage to seize the day. His cheeks tinged when he mused upon the pharaoh's ability in bed. He caught himself seeing Yami dancing lustily with him and a chill ran down his spine.
Heads turned in his direction, and Jou felt overcome with guilt at his naughty thoughts... until he realized the residents were merely looking at the roaring engine a couple hundred meters behind them. Without thinking, Jou imitated them, and he caught a glimpse of Yami's covetous gaze on him. Wishful thinking, maybe? It took a second before the red eyes returned to their impassible gloss.
Jou's heartbeat skipped a little; having someone contemplate you from that distance was almost as unsettling as the very concept of a not entirely emotionless Atemu.
The wagon came to a halt, spilling out his lot of passengers in front of them.
"Hey, um, you should..." He stared at his shoes awkwardly. "You should come to my joint". He was now looking at the dark haired man in the eyes, full of resolve. "My treat".
He wanted to bite his impulsive tongue. Jou couldn't believe he'd actually invited him, a near deity, former Ruler of Egypt of all people, to his see him in his second-rate eatery. The other smiled politely, giving him a grateful, yet neutral look in response.
"Well, um, see ya around". Jou didn't want to look too eager nor reluctant to leave, so he nodded quickly, buried his hands in his pockets and trotted to catch up with the last passenger in the line.
"Thanks. I might just do that".
Jou froze as he heard the man's earnest voice. Too flushed to face him, he jumped into the tram. His ears went from red to purple after he caught himself waving a hand at him through the doors.
A timid student quickly removed her schoolbag from the neighbouring seat when she saw the handsome blonde walking past her. Her school's uniform reminded him of the one he had hated to wear, back in Domino High. It wouldn't hurt to humour the kid, Jou thought. He sat next to her, his head saturated with the image of Yami... and his whole body tensed when he remembered where the pharaoh had kept his hand warm in his sleep.
Jou was not about to rethink his strict mating policy. No way. But maybe, maybe, he was ready to break his own rules for one person.
The diner needed a repaint, anyway.
***
That's it! Hope it managed to entertain you in a way or another :)