Yu-Gi-Oh is the property of Konami and Kazuki Takahashi, and this work is only a very appreciative celebration, from which we hope to derive no profit of any kind.

"You've got weird taste in entertainment," Seto commented to his guest, as they headed out to the car. "X-Men First Class is at the Imax by the university. It's just a sequel, but the critics say it's not bad."

"Or I could show you my Battle Tower," he said, climbing in and settling next to Yami. This was, for him, the hugest of concessions: His duel simulator at the top of the KaibaCorp building was private, a training program that he'd first had built after Duelist Kingdom, and the humiliating realization that he'd only beaten Mutou Yuugi by threatening to kill himself if he lost. Even now, even after the God Cards had pretty well made it impossible that he would ever beat his rival, he still kept it up-to-date with all the latest cards, and the latest stats for all the best players in the world.

X-Men? "Yuugi saw that movie," Yami said, almost icily. "I don't want to. It's not my taste to watch a bunch of people with strange powers. I told you before, I live in the past." It sounded more bitter than he intended, but it held a grain of truth in it; Yami had difficulties adapting to the real, current world, and clinging to arts and crafts from the past was his way to deal with it. Kabuki was an old form of art, and he'd been looking forward to enjoying it tonight.

"Your cultural history is one of the most refined in the world," said, "coming close to Ancient Egypt, of course. You really should pay more attention to the cultural side of your nation, instead of burying yourself in technology."

"Culture versus technology, right. Haven't we had this discussion already?" Seto was frowning again, his blue eyes back to being icy-cold, instead of boyish and sparkly like they'd been at the restaurant.

Yami had a moment of regret for the change before he caught himself, and realized he'd just been obsessing on his rival's eyes, of all things. He folded his arms and frowned back, just as icy-cold. "I want to see the kabuki performance, not your Battle Tower."

"Well that just figures, doesn't it?" The car hadn't moved yet. It was still sitting where it had pulled up to let them in, still taking up a big chunk of prime territory right in front of Kiyoshi. There were honks from the cars around it, and Seto could hear complaints and remonstrances coming from the sidewalk, but no one said anything directly, not to him or to his driver, such was the power of the discrete KC logo on the door. Seto didn't care for them. Let them howl, let them complain. His mind was on Yami, sitting like a rock in the seat next to him, and, like a rock, completely unbudgeable.

"We have to go to your precious kabuki theatre, don't we?" He felt almost as ineffective as those complaining drivers outside the car. It was a new feeling for the Head of KaibaCorp, not to be able to get what he wanted just by saying, and it wasn't a pleasant one. Plus of course, that he wasn't going to be able to talk to Yami at his stupid theatre. It was just going to be one long evening of "ooh, that painted-up demon over there, just talked to the painted-up maiden," and "oh, wasn't the guy who played the daimyo great in that last speech?" They'd been having fun together before they left the restaurant. Was it all going to be ruined now, by some piece of fucking culture?

"Fine, we'll go to your theatre," he growled. The car was still stationary at the curb, but that would change in a moment, wouldn't it? "It's too much to ask that we do something we both enjoy, isn't it? It's too much to ask that we go somewhere where we can actually talk, instead of just watching a lot of guys in costumes walk around acting medieval."

Seto wanted to talk? So he was taking him to duel at his Battle Tower?" Even if it had made sense, which it didn't, it was still frustrating. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for him. But on the other hand, putting the pressure on Seto to actually go, would ruin the evening anyway. Seto had made it clear the kabuki performance wasn't his cup of tea (despite allowing Yami to choose) and Yami wasn't sure if he could stand the entire performance sitting next to someone as bored and fidgety as Seto thinking of nothing but his Battle Tower.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared in front of him. Yuugi would've solved the problem without any difficulties, his aibou was gentle and agreeable, and always made things work so everyone had a good time. But his aibou wasn't here, and at times like this, Yami missed his sensitivity to human interaction. Meanwhile though, while the silence in the car was deafening, the noises of hollering and horns honking from outside, just kept getting louder and louder, and he realized that their car was holding up traffic. Annoyed, "fine," he said, "just drive already. We're holding the entire city up!"

"We'll go to the kabuki theatre." - "We'll go to the Battle Tower." - "Kabuki theatre." - "Battle Tower." - "Blah-blah." - "Yah-yah." - It stood to reason, thought the driver, from his comfortable place in the front seat and away from the both of them, that if Kaiba Seto was going to get himself a boyfriend, it would be someone as stiff-necked and bossy as he was himself. - If you could call this kid his 'boyfriend'; it wasn't like there was any boyfriendlike behavior going on between them. Kaiba-sama was sitting up straight like a ramrod on one side of the car. The other one, what was his name, Mutou or something, was sitting up just as straight (only a lot more short) on the other side. - What was less typical, was how he'd all of a sudden turned passive-aggressive. And so was the other one, from the sound of it.

"Kabuki theatre, grumble-grumble-grumble," went Kaiba, in a voice that could have scorched earth, a voice that left no doubt at all, that he wanted just the opposite.

And, "fine," came back the other one, his own voice breathing martyred woundedness like he should be in a painting with a halo around his head. "Go ahead and drive," he said, spitting it out like it was a major concession. Only was it? Where was he agreeing to go to?

Confused, the driver did nothing. The car just sat there for a long minute, while he tried to tease out which passive-aggressive agreement he was supposed to act on here. Kaiba wanted to go to the Battle Tower, only he'd said they would go to the theatre. And the other one, he'd said, "all right already, fine," only what was it he was agreeing on? If it was opposite day, it couldn't have been any more confusing.

The horns grew louder, as the car went on sitting perfectly still and, "you heard him," Kaiba growled from the front seat, and then, louder, "drive!"

"Kaiba-sama, where? Where do you want me..." the driver began, only to be interrupted as the maitre'd came huffing out of the restaurant and straight toward the stationary car with fire in his eyes.

"Just fucking drive," Kaiba yelled. "Weren't you fucking listening?"

And so he drove. He made the most logical conclusion he could about where they were going. He projected trajectories and calculated potential impacts (of the boom Kaiba-sama would lower on him if he made the wrong choice) like a good KaibaCorp employee, and he drove. ...To where he knew his boss really wanted to go, in other words the Battle Tower, because who was this starfish-headed little non-boyfriend in the backseat, to decide where the CEO of KaibaCorp would be going?

Sitting next to him in as the car pulled away from the curb, Yami huffed like a steam engine. He breathed like he could get prizes for it. If temper tantrums could be made just of inhaling and exhaling, Yami, Seto told himself, was making one now. It was like being stuck in the back seat with a snake or something, that couldn't stop hissing its anger at being around all the other snakes - Did snakes do that? - and what pissed him off the most, he thought, his own breath hissing in and out pretty audibly too, was that they were going where Yami wanted. What the fuck did he have to be mad about?

He was very sure they were going where Yami wanted. That's where they'd agreed to go in the first place. Yeah, he'd suggested someplace else, someplace interesting, but Yami had shot that down, and he'd agreed of course, because he had to. He hadn't expected it to feel like this, where he'd be torn between doing what it took to save his dragons and hating every minute, and breaking out to actually do something fun, with a rival suddenly turned into his friend, and he resented the hell out of it, but what could he do? He'd made a commitment to do what Yami wanted, and if that wasn't going to change, he was pretty much stuck.

Outside the car, rain had started to fall. At first, the lights of the buildings they passed showed smeared and elongated, a lightshow more than a proper view of the city streets they were passing. Then, inevitably (with all that angry breathing going on in the back seat), the insides of the windows fogged up, and after that the city wasn't visible at all. ...Or the suburbs? ...Or whatever they were passing? At any rate, with the grey upholstery, and the fogged-up windows grey now too, the car felt like a moving box-of-grey, with even the vivid colors of Yami's ridiculous tricolor hair, and his deep-red eyes were muted into grey by the dim light that made it into the car, and Seto couldn't help thinking how well that fit with the grey boringness of sitting through the evening at the kabuki theatre.

And then the car stopped, and he swung the door open and stepped out into a world that was bright and vivid again (albeit a little wet), and looked up to see the imposing height of the KaibaCorp building in front of him, instead of the theatre he'd been expecting, he could feel his spirits lift. He grinned, and he turned back to the car with some vague idea in his mind about helping Yami out, before he took him upstairs to show him all the latest features on his duel simulator. And it was only then that it hit him, that this wasn't where they were fucking supposed to be.

The second he stepped out of the car, Yami knew he wasn't at the kabuki theater, of course. He wasn't even in the center of the city anymore and when he looked to his right, he saw the outlines of the KaibaCorp building faintly lit in the evening dark, its windows brightly lit, like a beacon in a dark ocean. Over the hood of the car, Yami looked at Seto, just in time to catch him grinning.

"This is not the kabuki theater," he immediately snapped. "What are you thinking by taking me here?" It sounded like he was being kidnapped, but Yami wasn't able to hide his disappointment from his voice. He had really thought that they were going to the theater, to see something he had wanted to see ever since he had his own body. He stared at Seto, anger and disapproval radiating from his face.

And Seto stared back. "Did you hear me ask the driver to come here?" His voice was cold, and there was no trace of warmth - or humanity - in his face. This was Kaiba-sama the CEO of KaibaCorporation, not the companion Yami had enjoyed dinner with at Kiyoshi.

"The driver had his instructions," Seto said. "I told him where we wanted to go this morning. I don't have any more idea than you do, why he brought us back here instead. But that doesn't explain you," he told Yami. "You're immediately ready to believe the worst of me. And you'd rather go to the theatre, where we can't even have a decent conversation, than to go somewhere we'd both enjoy."

"You realize we'll be late if we do go," he said. "We'll get there, and we'll probably walk in, in the middle of the first act, and everybody will stare at us. Is that what you want, Yami? I'll do it if want to," he said.

The rain was starting to really fall now. They were standing there, each of them on his own side of the KaibaCorp limo, glaring at each other across the shiny grey roof. As much as he'd wanted to see the kabuki performance, Yami only felt more frustration, now that his chance of going was restored to him. "What is this to do to someone on a date?" he grumbled. "First you say you'll go wherever I want, then when I try to collect on that, you act like some kind of a martyr? I didn't even know Kaiba Seto could act like a martyr. I'd like to see what Siegrfried von Schroeder would say, or Amelda." He put out his hand. "You're so sincere? I want the money for new tickets. I'll take Yuugi instead, at least he'll have the sense to appreciate it, and then you can take me upstairs and show me your Battle Tower, and we'll see how much talkwe get in, when you're showing me a bunch of holographic Monsters that I've seen a million times before."

The KaibaCorporation building was just an office building, one of a string of office buildings, on a street that was lined with office buildings, but it had always felt more like a home to Seto than the Mansion, where he'd lived ever since his adoption. It loomed behind him now like a friendly presence, with the security lights on so he could find the alarm box and type in the code easily, and the two guards who patrolled, both ready to stay the fuck out of his way and not interrupt him, which is what they always did when he came in at night to work. The thought of going up to his comfortable office (with the duel simulator on the floor right above), of taking off his wet coat and maybe making a pot of coffee to take the chill off after having stood around in the rain, lifted his spirits like it always did.

"Let's go inside," Seto said. "I'll write you a check in there," and he led the way, hurrying across the rain-slick sidewalk, to the relative shelter of the awning over the door. He got them inside as quickly as he could, unlocking the door, neutralizing the alarm, and taking Yami up to his office via the private elevator that was reserved for his use. Once there, he turned on all the lights right away, in hopes of giving some faint air of hominess, to what was pretty much an all-business scene. Not that the cold white light of the flourescent bulbs really helped very much.

"I've got coffee," he said, "or I've got some sandwiches that are from this week ...I think. You want something, Yami?"

It was just as cold in Seto's office as it was outside. What's more, the place was depressing: No plants, no personal belongings, not even a picture of Mokuba somewhere. It was such a stark contract to the color-filled, cluttered home of the Mutou family that it made him almost feel sad for Seto; unlike the CEO, Yami at least had a family (Yuugi's) to go home to. Seto only had Mokuba, and now that he was starting to grow up, how long would he have him? What's more, his office was grim, and bleak, as lonely, Yami thought, as the rest of Seto's was probably. No wonder Seto muted all of his emotions, Yami mused, he'd have to, to put up with this place.

"Just coffee," Yami nearly shuddered at the thought of the week-old sandwiches Seto had offered him. "I'd like to warm a little up." He eyed the office a little more, squinting his eyes at the bright light. "Don't you have something that's more friendly?" He asked. "Like, dim lights? I feel like I'm... overexposed." Well, that was a stupid thing to say in Seto's presence, but he almost felt x-rayed, naked, because of the harsh light.

The smell of stale coffee, the sight of his computer, sitting quiet, waiting for his commands, like the best and most loyal of friends, that's what spelled home for Seto, who'd occupied this office ever since his step-father first started giving him KaibaCorp responsibilities (he'd chosen not to move into Gozaburo's big office when he'd taken over as CEO), and who had stayed here many a night, just because it felt more comfortable than going back to the Mansion. Just walking in here, relaxed him, lifted his spirits. And, by improving his mood, it also made him more sensitive to Yami's.

His guest was looking around with an uncomfortable, almost confused look on his face. He obviously didn't feel the appeal of the place, and probably wouldn't, even if he opened up the beta file for the next-model Duel Disk and showed it to him, Seto thought, feeling impressed with his own sensitivity. He'd better stick with the basics, he told himself, as he dumped out the old grounds in the drip machine, and refilled it to start coffee for them to share.

"Too bright?" Here on his home turf, he was ready to do whatever he could to make Yami comfortable, even trotting from one end of the room to the other one, pretty much at his command. Again, Seto congratulated himself on being a sensitive host, as he left the coffee maker to do its work, and went to turn off switches and adjust the light. Turning off one, then even two of the three, didn't do very much, and he finally switched them all off, and turned on the lamp on his desk for the only light. "There," he said. "Is that better?"

He also, hospitably, wiped the last semi-clean cup, and cleared the crusty stuff off the pour-spout of the creamer. There wasn't any sugar, so Yami was out of luck if he wanted that, but after all, how many people did? Seto filled two cups and turned to his guest. "How do you like your coffee?" he asked him.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee and the lights being turned down to at least a little, made Yami feel more at ease. He still was a little taken aback by the no-personality interior decoration of the office. Was this really the place Seto worked every day? No wonder he was so gloomy and so business-like. Didn't people have pictures of their relatives on their desks? Didn't they at least put something on their desks, that was significant of their personality? Nothing spoke of anything personal here, and it made him feel tense and uncomfortable.

"Much better, yes," Yami said, referring to the light that at least softened the office now that it wasn't as bright as before, and continued, "black, please." He didn't care for sweets or sugar in particular and didn't see why he should add sugar or creamer to coffee, which should have enough flavor of its own - unless it was the cheap kind, of course. Would Seto also be so un-personal that he didn't even have his own stash or brand of coffee? Well, it didn't matter much. Yami thought; he'd enjoy the coffee anyway. It was a good closure after dinner, now that he didn't get to see the kabuki performance.

"So this is your office," he stated the obvious. "All business-like, just like you, right Seto? I was expecting something more... luxurious from the head of KaibaCorp."

Seto didn't have his own stash of coffee. It never would have even occurred to him to; coffee was just fuel of course, albeit, fuel for concentration, rather than for mere survival. In other words, it was more important than food, which was why he knew how to make it at all; he'd never have bothered learning to make his own sandwiches. The smell coming from the two cups he poured screamed "cheap and generic". It was the lousy, burnt smell that comes out of diners at 3 AM, and gives long-distance drivers a depressing welcome in truck-stops wherever goods are being hauled. It wasn't that Seto didn't know there were other kinds of coffee, because he did certainly, especially now that Mokuba had started bringing coffee back for him, after meeting his friends at Starbucks. It's just that he didn't care. This was the coffee he'd learned to drink when Gozaburo had made him pull all-nighters; it was the coffee he still drank now. It kept him awake just as well as the fancy kind, didn't it?

"Black?" He gave a brief nod, hearing Yami's request, then poured some creamer into his own cup (necessary to cut the lousy taste of the coffee) and brought the cups over to the sofa. "You want to sit down?" He dropped down without waiting for Yami to respond to the offer, and took a quick swallow of coffee before he spoke again.

"This room is luxurious," he said. "I've got all the luxury I want there." He jerked his head toward the computer on his desk. "Since when does it have to be real-life to count as luxury?" he asked Yami. "Virtual reality is just as good."

As he sat down, Yami sipped some coffee, and could barely refrain from a disapproving scowl. It had been a while since he had coffee this bad. He couldn't believe the CEO of KaibaCorp would drink coffee that tasted this cheap, too cheap even to be served at the ramen place down the street from the Game Shop.
"Luxury," he said, "isn't all about the things that you surround yourself with. It's about feeling, too. I know it sounds strange, coming from me..." Yami wasn't the person to really talk openly about his feelings, and it felt weird, besides, to talk to Seto about something so personal. "This office is depressing," he said. There's no comfort, there's no warmth. Where's the picture of your brother? Where are the plush cushions on your sofa, to name something?"

"It's just little things," Yami tried to take the sting out of his words, "but they can make a gigantic difference. You can't be happy with only technology surrounding you, Seto. Are you happy? Really, really happy, with nothing but machines in your life?"

The cup of coffee warmed his hands and sent trails of nice-smelling steam up into his face. The sofa was soft, and the yellow light of his desk lamp was cozy. It was weird being in his office just to relax; it felt like he should have had to do hours and hours of work first to get to this point. But it felt nice. And being with Yami felt comfortable. Seto was getting used to his endless pick-pick-picking and nag-nag-nagging. - He sounded like a mother hen, and that was way more mothering than Seto could remember ever having gotten in his life before, which probably helped. - It was just Yami's way, he thought, and after a good dinner, with nothing ahead but a little quiet conversation and some coffee, he was inclined not to mind it too much.

"I get it," he said. "You don't like technology." Outside, the wind had picked up, and was blowing waves of rain against the windows. Seto could hear it hit, and somehow the sound made it feel all the cozier to be inside, sitting with Yami on the sofa. "You want me to have real paintings on the wall, and real books, and real pictures of Mokuba, and the digital ones don't count in your eyes. You want me to have cushions on the sofa. Yami, why do you think I come in here, to work, or to sit on the sofa?"

"I could have taken you back to the Mansion," he said, "onlly I hate it there. This is where I feel at home." If it was strange for Yami to talk about his feelings, it was a million times stranger when Seto did it. But things had changed since the beginning of the evening, hadn't they? Maybe it was the wine they'd had with dinner, maybe it was the warm, coffee-smelling quiet inside the office. Maybe somewhere along the line he and Yami had become friends. That wasn't totally outside the realm of possibility, was it?

"My step-father gave me this office." As always when he mentioned Gozaburo, Seto's lip curled. "He wanted me to work here to 'prove myself', and show I was 'worthy to be his son.' But I didn't care, because I knew I was worthy, and I knew I'd prove that, as soon as I was given the chance. This was the first place I ever had where I could shut the door," he said. "I could close everyone else out and think by myself. You're the first person I ever brought here Yami, and I brought you because you're more interesting than peace and quiet. Now stop nagging, and let's talk."

In Yami's defense, he hadn't wanted to criticize Seto, but it was difficult for him to understand why someone with his money, would put up with an office this drab. He tried to soften his reaction, tried to understand Seto's mindset. It was Gozaburo who had made him like this, wasn't it? It was the step-father who'd only taken him in for his own benefit, and who'd raised him with harsh beatings, pushing him to the limits, showing him nothing but contempt and disdain, instead of love and affection. It was a miracle that Seto hadn't turned out completely psychotic; it told a lot about his inner strength that he didn't allow his stepfather to hold more of an influence over him.

"I'm sorry if I offended you," Yami finally said. "I should've known that this place was more to you than just a mere office." It wasn't easy for him to apologize, but it felt right; after all, Seto had done his best. He'd provided coffee …of sorts. And he'd adjusted the lights when Yami asked him to. It was cozier in here with just the desk lamp, he told himself... Even though 'cozy' and this office didn't belong in the same sentence. He should be a good guest and stop criticizing.

"More interesting than peace and quiet, hm?" He picked up on Seto's words. "How?"

"Yes, more interesting." Seto met his gaze. "I thought it was just with dueling," he said, "but you make everything into a challenge, don't you? I can challenge myself with the deck of any known Duel Monsters player, any time I want up there," - Seto thumb-pointed at the ceiling toward his Battle Tower as he spoke. - "I can set challenging work-goals for myself, but it all gets kind of predictable. You're interesting because I never know what you're going to say."

That wasn't a really intimate thing to say, was it? It wasn't like he'd said, 'Yami, you're cute,' or 'I want to kiss you Yami,' or something. But it felt intimate for some reason, it felt like he'd just bared his soul. Seto stared down silently into his coffee. He was embarrassed, or maybe he was just confused, and wondering if he should be embarrassed. Maybe he was just wondering what his best next step was. He felt like he was really getting close to Yami. He felt like he wanted to get even closer. But close? Like ...kiss-close? Like putting his arms around him kind of close?

Once he thought of it, the picture came into his head unbidden, and once it was there, he couldn't get it out. What would Yami do if he did that? Would he laugh at him? Would he get all shocked and give him one of his patented Yami-lectures like he'd done about everything else? Would he ...like it, maybe respond? And then what would that feel like? Setos don't blush. After a long moment he looked up from his coffee again, to see Yami still looking at him. "What are you waiting for me to say?" he asked him.

"I don't know," was actually the first answer to pop up in Yami's mind, and really, he didn't know. Was he waiting for Seto, to say something? What would he say? …What would he do?

"I'm..." Yami started. He looked at Seto, who had taken him out on a date and who was showing him his office. He couldn't ask for a bigger glimpse into his heart, could he? Seto was as closed and cold as a rock of ice, yet that wasn't all he was, was it? There was strength there, and there was passion, no matter how much Seto tried to hide it.

"I'm waiting for you to kiss me," Yami finally blurted out. Well, he could learn a little subtlety from Yuugi, that was for sure. Besides, it wasn't even an answer to Seto's question. He felt his face go hot, and he wondered uncomfortably about Seto's reaction. If he'd read this situation wrong, Seto was going to throw him out of the building and mock him for the rest of his life.

'I'm waiting for you to kiss me.' Seto put his cup down on the coffee table. Whatever he'd been expecting Yami to say, that wasn't it. Him kiss Yami? Him kiss hisrival, the only person he'd never been able to best in a duel, the holder of the God Cards, that he'd only just fired up the duel simulator this morning and tried to beat (unsuccessfully) again? At first the confused tangle of objections and surprised protest was all there was in his brain, and he couldn't think at all, for just the sheer surprise of hearing Yami's suggestion, he was just sitting there looking at him, staring at him rather, with his mind in total shock. Then after he stared a moment, his eyes locked on Yami's dark-red eyes. He looked atthem, and then he looked into them, and it was like he couldn't look away.

Yami was smiling. His eyes were warm, and he was smiling, and hardly even knowing he was doing it, Seto moved closer to him. He stared into Yami's eyes, and he didn't notice, as he put his hands on his shoulders, and moved even closer, until their lips touched. Yami's lips were cool and still against his, and how wrong was this, Seto found himself thinking, if he was the only one doing anything. He was the only one who even wanted this, wasn't he, he thought, and as soon as he let him up, Yami was probably going to leave. Only he didn't let him up, and he didn't move away from him, he just kept his lips where they were, until he felt Yami's warm and open a little.

And then he pulled away, a little shocked at his own success. "Like that?" he asked, his voice unsteady.