Not dead, just sleeping... Borath's got intermittent internet access at the moment, and I've come down with a case of the mega-busies, so updates may be sporadic for a while. Thank you, gentle reader, for your patience.
In this chapter:
Mannequin!Yami, obligatory Gaga references and other namedrops, angry angry prideshipping and many crimes against fashion.
Thieves of Love
The Journey
Chapter 3 - Papa's Got A Brand New Bag
Seto Kaiba slammed the bedroom door behind the hurrying back of the last stylist. It made quite a bang against the sturdy timber frame. Thankfully Kaiba did not go in for knick-knacks, or they would have been swept from the shelves as he stormed back across the room. "Incompetent charlatans," he growled, folding his arms to assess the damage. Yami sat in Kaiba's desk chair, the desk itself having been transformed into a dressing table for the occasion. Kaiba's eyes locked on Yami's, haughty and judgemental, in the mirror.
"You might be stuck with the hair," Kaiba finally pronounced sentence. "If we try to dye it again it'll go green, and trust me, you don't want that." Yami's once-tricoloured hair was a monochrome shadow of its former glory, the pointed bangs softened and brushed to one side to wave slightly around his face. Kaiba eyed with disgust the pink headband the youngest stylist had tried to team with it, claiming it brought out the colour of Yami's eyes. The kohl did work well, Kaiba admitted, but "emo" wasn't going to work as a hook for the Thieves. Checking out Yami's outfit again, he decided to hunt down whoever decided to fit a collar and striped tie to a t-shirt and have them ritually sterilised for the good of humanity.
Looking up from the portable lightbulb-bordered mirror, Yami quirked an elegant brow. "Cutting would have been more detrimental, Kaiba. I can live with these colours if you think they better suit the band's image."
He couldn't quite see why the taller man was spitting venom - he thought the army of impeccable men had done an excellent job, and it made sense for his image to be influenced by their first audience.
Touching the dark smudges about his eyes light enough so as not to disturb them, his reflection showed a thin, rueful smile. "I can see why Malik was so attached to this style."
Ignoring Yami, Kaiba headed to the two racks of clothes hung neatly on portable rails in sharp contrast to the discarded piles strewn on the bed. He flicked in disbelief past the dress made of bubble-wrap. Start with the classics, he decided, pulling out a pair of stonewashed denim jeans, a plain white t-shirt and a black leather jacket. He'd probably still insist on wearing the dog collar. "Try these." He thrust the stash at Yami.
Rolling the chair back from the desk a little, Yami considered the pile of fabrics in his lap. It was a large step away from what he would have chosen to wear, but it wasn't packing material either. Oblivious to any discomfort on Kaiba's part, and entirely used to being dressed by and in front of others, the once-Pharaoh began undoing the multiple buckles across his torso so that he could get his shirt off. "Are you sure this is the right 'look' for Theo, Kaiba? My understanding was that military uniforms were more apt."
"We're playing to the crowd, not joining it." Kaiba headed back to the racks, flicking through impatiently, and trying to ignore that his long-time rival was currently stripping in his, Kaiba's, own bedroom. He'd dressed Mokuba plenty of times before. Why should this be any different? Pausing in his frantic search, he listened to the clink of release from each buckle, waiting for the whispering of the shirt being pulled over Yami's head. He was interested in what lay in Yami's mind, not under his clothes, surely. He hadn't spent the audition captivated by Yami's every move. This was an uncomfortable avenue of thought to be pursuing. "Are you done yet?" he snapped, risking a sidelong glance toward the desk.
"You have absolutely," Yami murmured as he began pulling his trousers off behind the desk ('Slipping' them off simply wasn't an option), "no patience, Kaiba." A few more seconds and a short, blessedly unseen hop later and the jeans were on.
Yami considered himself in the small mirror with a frown, tugging a little at the white shirt that, whilst fitted, practically hung off him. Or it seemed to, anyway. "I don't like it," he announced as a signal for Kaiba to offer (as if there'd be any chance he wouldn't) his opinion.
It took all of half a second for Kaiba to realise the outfit was all wrong. Yami looked utterly lost in the garb of a clean-cut blues rocker, his poise and grace muffled by the baggy attire. "Not a chance," he stated flatly. He gestured towards the rack. "Anything take your fancy, then?"
Abandoning the most outlandish costume pieces that the stylists had had rejected by Gaga herself (only the best in the world, in Kaiba's books, would do for this venture), Yami foraged until a flash of royal purple caught his eye. It was an awful thing to admit to, but he simply wasn't used to choosing his own clothes - and certainly not whilst presented with this sheer range of choice. In Egypt he'd been dressed, and in the Puzzle he ultimately wore whatever Yugi was wearing. No wonder Bakura had paired him off with Kaiba for this. As much as he hated to admit it, even privately, he did need Kaiba's help.
Holding up the tight purple jeans, he made a soft 'hmm' to Kaiba for his verdict.
Kaiba scanned the jeans, studying them carefully. They wouldn't have been his choice, but then Yami couldn't pull off Kaiba's style, or so Kaiba liked to believe. They might look better on, he considered. Nodding, he pulled out a skinny-fit black shirt, reaching down to the shoe rack for a pair of checked Converse. "Try them," he ordered, wondering whether a crushed-velvet jacket over the top would be a step too far.
Once again, Yami showed no hesitation in swapping one shirt for another before Kaiba turned his back. The jeans were a bit more of a problem, however, giving even less than leather did. Once they were done up, he found he couldn't actually kneel to try on the shoes. "By Ra, I don't think I could eat in these," he muttered, padding out from around the desk in socks. "Why is everything here too large or so tight that I'm going to need help if I've had a glass of water?"
Kaiba could practically hear the squeaks as Yami moved. That wouldn't be good for rock posturing. "Well, this looks about your size," he smirked, pulling out a black dress with too many frills and ribbons, complete with lace petticoats. "I hear the effeminate look is back. We'll get you some purple nail polish, some platform wedges, and some harajuku girls to back you up. Bakura will probably try to eat them once we've finished the first gig, but we can deal with that. Pointing him at the nearest 24 hour steakhouse should work." He returned to the rack, looking for a serious suggestion.
Ruffled, Yami folded his arms with a tight jaw. He felt heat rise up his neck and cursed having a solid body with its uncontrollable ability to flush. "Don't mock me for this, Kaiba. I'm doing my best, and I didn't allow Bakura to pair me with you for my own humiliation. This is in your interest as much as mine."
In Kaiba's view, a point conceded in such a way was a point scored in Kaiba's favour, and one would do for now given that it appeared he had control. "Oh, calm down," he snapped, looking down at Yami and wondering how he managed to retain an air of regal indignation in those ridiculous trousers. "Do you think I'm going to let you go out there and reflect badly on me? Let's try again. I think we can work with the leather trousers, if you find them comfortable?" He selected a black silk button-down, rooting through a box on the floor for some simple silver jewellery. Ordinarily all those different kinds of shiny would be a fashion crime, but on stage overdressing might work in their favour, particularly in Theo. "You might be a bit warm under the lights."
It was a small show of concern for his wellbeing, projected as a statement as it was, and it caught Yami a little. He considered the taller man's neutral expression as he held the new clothes, finally taking them with a softer voice than he would have liked. "Thank you."
Considering the fabric and jewelery over his arm, still warm from Kaiba's hands, he had to blink out of an unexpected reverie. "Have you any idea what Bakura has planned for us? I know as Thieves we'll be singing covers, but dancing? A record contract? I can't tell just how seriously he's taking this. To be honest, I went to the audition out of curiosity."
"I don't think he's thought beyond the live aspect," Kaiba answered, rifling through the wardrobe for more options for Yami, or inspiration for his own image, but mainly to keep his hands busy. "I've got Mokuba looking into the rights issues on releasing covers. KaibaCorp has its own label for game soundtracks, and I'm sure we could extend that aspect of the business if Thieves takes off." His own chattiness surprised him, but Yami was a business partner now, of sorts, and maybe that was why he was beginning to feel comfortable in the Pharoah's presence. "As for dancing, I should imagine that's up to you, as our frontman." He quirked an eyebrow inquisitively.
Yami coughed a laugh despite himself, one slender hand moving to touch the back of his neck. "I'm afraid that what you saw at the audition was as far as my skills go in terms of dancing. I may need to speak to Anzu about that."
"Don't." Kaiba recalled with displeasure Anzu's inelegant cavorting at the auditions. "You'd be better off just watching some Van Halen music videos." Struck by the thought, he brushed past Yami to reach his monogrammed laptop. The desk being covered in various powders and lotions Kaiba didn't want anywhere near his precious electronics, he settled for clearing a space on the bed. He woke up the laptop, hitting Youtube to search for great live performances. "We'll keep it simple to start with." He turned the laptop around to face Yami. "The Axl Rose 'snake'." On screen, the singer was making a curious undulating motion with his lower body, accented by the swing of the microphone stand.
Yami studied the video for a few seconds before turning for Kaiba's scrutiny and imitating the undulation as best he could. This vein continued for several hours, wardrobe forgotten, and it was only when Yami left did he realize how utterly comfortable he'd been with the CEO's eyes on him constantly. It left a strange feeling in his gut, one he couldn't quite discern, though he was sure that Kaiba hadn't been affected the same way.
