Ano sa

DISCLAIMER: Behold number five inthe collection of one-shots – "Ano sa", also translated as "Hey, you know". I had a bit of a quandary here, because I don't know if our arrogant, tough-guy Yami would ever say "Ano sa", but for the sake of this chapter needing a title, we'll overlook that, kay?

It had been a hard day. One of the hardest days of his life, in fact, but since he regularly dealt with dark magic and monsters, he had a feeling saying that would be a little melodramatic. So it had been a hard day.

Since his father was coming home for the spring break to 'rest up', the game shop had to be in absolute peak condition. His mother had taken over the books from Sugoroku so she could make them neat and spotless. Sugoroku had cleaned every last inch of his store and back room. After finding how much it meant to Yuugi, even Yami had agreed to help out. He had started tending and hanging around outside the shop so the people that recognised him would see how much he valued the Kame game store and start buying things there, so the shop was actually doing well for the first time since the last game craze.

Yuugi, on the other hand, was stuck doing all the jobs no one else could do. His mother was too busy to cook – Yuugi was shoved into the kitchen. Sugoroku had trouble climbing up and down the stairs all the time to get to the storeroom in the rooftop – Yuugi was regularly sent up to fetch boxes of games that had been there since before he could remember. Only Yami had time to go shopping or run errands, and he never did chores without Yuugi or at least motivation from Yuugi – Yuugi was sent out at least twice a day. Omocha was scared of heights, Sugoroku was too old, and Yami wasn't really trusted when it came to finishing physical labour – Yuugi had been given the final week of school to put a layer of paint on the outside of the house.

The sun had set, dinner was finished, the dishes handed off to his sympathetic mother, and he had finished hauling the last box of stock downstairs. Yuugi collapsed face first onto his bed.

He lay there for several minutes, relishing the silence and stillness of his bedroom, but couldn't find the energy to be upset when his bedroom door reopened and Yami's confident footsteps strode over to stand beside the bed.

"Aibou?"

"M'dead," he stated without removing his head from the mattress. "G'way."

"No, I'm dead. Or at least a reasonable facsimile of."

He couldn't help it. He smiled, turning his head to look up at him out of the corner of his eye. "Something I can help you with?"

Yami made a face somewhere between a sad smile and a grimace, tilting his head in concern. "You're sunburnt."

"Yeah… and my arm's going to fall off, the batteries in my discman are dead, I have paint all over me, and if I move from this exact position my back will reduce me to tears. How are you?"

"I'm worried about you," he said, and knelt down, his elbow on his knee as he frowned. "You're pushing yourself far too hard. Ask Jounouchi or Honda to finish painting the house. You aren't built for this kind of exercise."

He smiled wearily. "Mum'd never go for it. She thinks Jounouchi's a thief and that Honda would end up painting the windows. She doesn't like them much."

"Then stop doing something else. I'll do the errands, or move the stock. You don't have to do all this."

"I'll give up cooking, how about that? I'm sure you can figure that out."

Yami smirked. He was rather fond of Yuugi's cooking, and had no intention of ever letting Omocha in the kitchen again. "I'll start moving the stock for you."

"But I hate cooking," he whined. "Come on, the other me, I'm dying of pain here, take pity on me! You cook!"

"Not a chance."

He groaned, collapsing back into the bed with his eyes closed. "Mmph. I'm too tired to argue with you."

Yami furrowed his brow, shifting into a more comfortable position as he looked over his other. He really did look exhausted, and he could tell from the way Yuugi was holding his shoulders and back that he hadn't been exaggerating about his muscles being painful. "Aibou, I'm sure your father would understand if the house wasn't completely perfect. Is it really worth all this pain just to make his stay a little more satisfactory?"

"No," Yuugi said quickly, so firm that Yami found himself blinking in surprise. "He's not worth the effort."

"Then why are you –?"

"Because it's important to Mum," he said wearily, sighing out a heavy breath. "And as part of a household we all have to do our part to keep the peace."

From the way he said it, Yami had a sudden theory he was reciting something he had been told a few hundred times.

"This is going to be my final break of freedom before the final year of high school," continued Yuugi, his eyes still closed despite the full awareness in his voice. "As soon as I go back to school, it's going to be nothing but work and stress for the next nine and a half months. I'm barely going to have time to sleep, let alone be with you, so I just want this break to be as stress free as time with my dad can be. If that means spending my last week of school painting the house and working my fingers to the bone, then by hell am I going to do it."

Yami grimaced, reaching out a hand to brush Yuugi's hair away from his reddened face. "And my existence is only going to make things worse, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but he's gonna have to meet you sometime," he said, shifting so Yami could run his fingers through more hair. "Just… try not to do anything too extreme while he's here, okay?"

"Got it. No banishing, no killing, no rampant torture," he listed playfully, and Yuugi chuckled.

"That's the idea. And try to keep the mother henning to a minimum, would you?"

"For you," he agreed, and Yuugi mumbled his thanks, before grunting.

"My back really hurts. Don't suppose there's any magic you can do on it?"

"Strangely enough, no," Yami said dryly. "My powers of darkness and destruction can't heal muscle tension, for some reason."

"The other me, I'm in pain. For you to be sarcastic right now is cruel."

He smiled, but fell silent, just running his fingers through Yuugi's hair in a soothing motion as his eyes trailed over Yuugi's shoulders. "Hey, you know… aibou, I may not be able to perform real magic on you, but perhaps I might be able to do something else to help."

"Mmph?" he managed, half opening one eye to show he was paying attention.

"Take off your shirt. I don't remember actually doing this, but I might be able to massage your shoulders."

Yuugi continued to stare at him through his half open eye for a moment, then slowly pushed himself up onto his knees and pulled off his shirt with a loud, protesting groan of pain. He threw the paint-covered garment onto the floor and lay back down, only glancing around to check it was what Yami wanted. He nodded and climbed up onto the bed, stretching his fingers before carefully laying his hands over Yuugi's shoulders. For a few seconds Yuugi just hissed in pain, gripping the sheets beneath his hands, before he suddenly stopped and slumped back into the bed without a sound.

"Aibou?" prompted Yami, pausing his movements in concern. "Am I really that bad?"

"No," he said, lifting his head slightly. "No, no, no, no…"

"So what…?"

"Keep going," he ordered. "It hurt to start with, but oh, man…!"

He smirked, pushing his thumbs back into the knotted muscles, and Yuugi moaned in pleasure, sliding back into the bed. Neither spoke for a few moments, Yami carefully kneading Yuugi's back and shoulders into some semblance of the human form. Aside from Yuugi's occasional hiss of pain when Yami moved onto a particularly tender area, the bedroom was silent, and a general feeling of warm relaxation began to fall around them.

"Aibou?"

"Mm?" He sounded half-asleep.

"About your father…"

"Mmph."

"You said he's not going to like me whatever I do? Are you sure there isn't some way…?"

Yuugi took a deep breath, preparing himself for the chore of lifting his head to speak clearly. "The other me, it's not you he's not going to like. You, I'm sure he would love. But you aren't me. The fact that I, girlie little Yuugi-chan that I am, am his son and have no intention of ever becoming someone like you isn't something Dad's going to be happy with."

"Ridiculous," he muttered absently.

"Worse still, when you talk to me, you're completely different to the big ol' nasty everyone in the duelling world is scared of, and for some reason people seem to think we're actually in the middle of this in-depth, American soap-opera style romance," continued Yuugi, and Yami rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, mouthing 'From their thoughts to your ears' before shaking his head and returning to his massage.

"I still don't see the problem. Yes, your mother hates me because of it, but she hated me to start with."

"She hates it because you're you. Dad will hate it because neither of us is a woman."

"Ah. The modern politically correct sham strikes again, I see," he said dryly, and Yuugi snorted.

"Something like that. Oh god! That's it, there… mm!" He rolled his shoulders, stretching his fingers, and Yami couldn't help but grin at the content moan rippling from his aibou's chest.

As much as he missed the close familiarity their original, unconscious mindlink had granted them, sometimes Yami was very glad his solidity had changed it so they both had to consciously work to achieve the same connection. It meant he was free to fantasise, and over the last month he had developed some very nice ones.

Although he had always had minor 'daydreams' about his aibou when he had been nothing but a spirit—though at the time logic had overrode his ability to participate in them—they had not been particularly realistic. Now that he could touch Yuugi at any time and in any way, he had been learning little bits and pieces that made his fantasies much better. He knew from one afternoon spent tickling Yuugi in an attempt to pull him away from his studies that Yuugi had sensitive palms, and that running a single finger along the line between his chest and ribs produced a shudder that made Yami's breathing hitch. He knew from wrestling Yuugi away from the remote that the muscles in his legs were strongest. He knew that when Yuugi did any truly strenuous exercise the sweat would soak the usually stiff roots of his hair and make it fall around his face.

Now he knew that Yuugi was vocal when particular satisfied.

Damn, he was definitely sleeping on his futon tonight. He was not going to risk sleeping next to Yuugi when he already knew the dream he would have.

"Nn… the other me… if this is the… uhh…" Yuugi rumbled again, emitting something close to a purr. "If this is the reward, I'm going to paint the whole… ah… paint the whole house three times over… aiyaaa…"

"I have a better idea," he said softly, letting his hand drift just that little bit too far down Yuugi's lower back. "You keep cooking, and I'll give you a massage in return."

Yuugi's groan turned into a moan halfway, and Yami let out a soft breath at the sound. "Aibou?"

"I'm seriously considering it," he said shortly, and Yami grinned. Now that was a win-win situation. Not only did he get to force Yuugi to cook for him, but he also got to hear these wonderful noises. Life was sweet.

But all too soon, the massage was done, and Yami leaned over to lie his cheek by Yuugi's. "Feel better?"

"Soooo much better," he mumbled happily, rolling over onto his back to smile up at him. He reached out to take one of Yami's hands and pulled him down so he was lying beside him, half leaning over Yuugi's chest. "I am in debt to you, my pharaoh."

He smirked, entwining their fingers together. He knew it was his overactive imagination, but Yuugi's sunburn suddenly looked much less like cooked skin and more like afterglow. It took everything he had not to lean down and kiss him. "The duty of the spirit of a Millennium item is to take care of its bearer."

"But you're not a spirit anymore," said Yuugi, smiling cheekily.

"But you are still my aibou. Now, are you taken care of?"

"Very well," he said, then made a face. "But I should go have a bath. I'm all yellow from paint."

Yami pulled theirs hands up to inspect Yuugi's nails, raising an eyebrow. "You cooked my dinner with these hands?"

"Hey, my hands are clean! It's just the underside of the nails, and my elbows, and jeans, and shirt, and hair…" He let go of Yami, gently pushing him away to roll off the bed. "Thanks for the hands, the other me. You saved my life."

"Always and anytime, my aibou," he said warmly, and Yuugi grinned before scooping his pyjamas out of the cupboard and trotting from the room. Yami continued to smirk at the door for a moment, then rolled onto his back, hands behind his head as he frowned.

Yuugi had explained his father very clearly – Makito was a friendly man, as long as you fit his expectations. If you didn't, then he was coldly patronising, making remarks that could be either offhand or direct but would alwayswear you down.

Irritated by the very idea that Yuugi would change who he was for this man, Yami had downright refused to do the same. He never had and never would change his actions or personality to suit other's expectations. But he just wasn't sure if this 'Makito' would listen to—let alone accept—the truth about their relationship. Which would make things difficult for Yuugi, who was… impressionable, at best.

He had three more days before their world would be thrown on its head… and he had no idea what to do about it.