Author's Note: UUUUUUGH what even is this. OTL I apologize. I've had this idea forever and the execution just isn't what I imagined at all.
Run
Seto pulled his jacket tighter around his body and tried to keep his teeth from chattering, one hand buried in his brother's hair and the other on the gun in the pocket on the inside of his jacket. He thought back to his bed, king-sized and covered with thick blankets, and closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again when he heard footsteps at the end of the alley. He swallowed thickly and gripped the gun tighter, easing it out of his pocket and taking off the safety.
The footsteps paused on the other side of the crate they were hidden in. Then, the person rapped their knuckles on the side of the crate. "Oi. You're in my box."
People kept track of the boxes and crates they slept in?!
Seto hesitated. Maybe it was a trick. Maybe they were just saying that to get him to come out.
The person rapped the side of the box again. "'least gimme my blankets then."
Seto looked down at the ragged cloth beneath them in surprise.
Swinging around the side of the crate, the guy sighed. "Just give them t' me, asshole—Kaiba."
The brunet swallowed thickly. "Wheeler."
Joey narrowed his eyes at him, then at the gun in his hand. "What's that for?" He glanced at the blankets they were huddled on, then back up at him. "…Why're ya sleepin' in a box?"
Seto scowled at him, because that seemed better than breaking down. "Go away."
"This 'cause o' that shootin' at the press conference? Must be," he said to himself thoughtfully. "You're sleepin' in a box."
"We're not sleeping," Seto retorted indignantly, because he didn't want to think he had sunk so low after clawing his way to the top. He paused when Mokuba let out a snore. "…I'm not sleeping."
Joey stared at them a moment, then shrugged. "Yeah, okay. Can I have my blankets?"
The night would be unbearable without them. Seto thought about saying no.
"…Is there a reason you're sleepin' in a box?" the blond asked after a moment. "There wasn't a safe house ya could go to?"
Seto huffed. "Roland said they'd already shot up one of them, and he didn't trust the others. He was going to set up a decoy for us, but that meant that we were on our own until he signaled an all-clear in the newspaper. The madam of the orphanage sent us this way when I went to her for help. She said only an idiot would come after us in this part of town."
"She's probably right," Joey mused, then sighed. "Come on, then."
The brunet blinked at him, confused. "What?"
The younger man sighed again and rolled his eyes, stooping to tug at the blankets beneath them. "I'll take ya somewhere safe."
"Why would you do that?" Seto asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Oh for the love of God." Joey cuffed him on the back of the head. "Come on, asshole. If I wanted ya dead, I'd just leave ya here."
That seemed true enough, he figured. He stood, wincing as his cramped muscles protested the movement, then turned and scooped Mokuba up, even though he was really too big to be carried anymore. After all of the sneaking and running of the past few days, he couldn't bring himself to wake him.
Joey turned toward him, eyeing him thoughtfully, then held his hand out to him. "Gimme the gun though."
Seto froze. He'd forgotten he'd had it in hand. Good lord, the safety was still off.
"Yeeeah, I'm just gonna take it," the blond said, easing the gun from his grip and flipping the safety back on. "Just follow me."
The older man nodded and heaved his brother a little higher. "Alright."
.-.-.-.-.-.
"Dad, I got some friends, stay outta my face," Joey called, holding the door open. He reached out with a grunt. "Don't take your shoes off."
Seto raised his eyebrows. "I—"
The blond shrugged, frowning. "Too much glass in the carpet." He waved them after him, shooting a glare at the old man on the couch. "Come on."
He followed the younger man into an even smaller room, and he wondered for a moment how anyone could live in such a small space. Then he remembered that it was all Joey could afford, most likely, and he felt badly for thinking like that.
He eased Mokuba down onto the blond's small bed, letting out a grunt when he fell the last few inches with him. "Ow. Mokuba, stop growing immediately."
Joey snorted and rolled his eyes, smiling a little. "Wow, okay." He watched the brunet roll over onto his back and sit up, scooting toward the edge of the bed. "You can take your shoes off now. I don't let Dad throw shit in here."
Seto looked at his shoes, suddenly feeling exhausted down to his bones.
"…Or not," the blond murmured, raising his eyebrows a little. He took in the older man's slumped shoulders and knelt in front of him, untying his left shoe and picking the laces loose until he could pull it off for him. He hissed in sympathy when the brunet groaned and he saw that his socks were actually a bit bloody from some of his blisters. "Guess your boots woulda been more comfortable than these loafer things."
Seto bent his toes, clenching the sheet covering the blond's mattress with white knuckles. "Shit."
Joey smiled up at him reassuringly, otherwise he might cry a little. "It's okay, I mean, I think I have a bucket somewhere!" He peeled his other shoe off and bit his bottom lip as that sock was a bit redder than the other. "We can soak 'em in warm water and then I'll find ya some shoes that won't kill ya."
"…Okay," the older man replied after a moment. He leaned his head back to look at the ceiling and sighed, then looked back down at the blond. "Thank you. For your help."
"Meh." Joey shrugged. "I'd feel bad if ya died in this neighborhood."
Seto blinked at him in disbelief. "You live in this neighborhood."
"I took your gun from ya and put the safety on without even lookin' for it," the blond deadpanned. "I'm kinda used t' this place."
"…You shouldn't be," Seto told him after a moment. He glanced at the door, thinking about the carpet outside that was so dangerous that he'd had to keep his shoes on. He remembered that Joey had claimed a box, put his own blankets in it, and had been on his way to sleep in it had they not been there. "Why do you still live here?"
Joey shrugged. "Why not? It's good enough until I can save up enough money for my own place. Sometimes I hafta sleep in boxes, but ya know, I've been doin' this so long, it's not so bad anymore." He peeked up at the older man from beneath his lashes, smirking. "I mean, it's not like people are shootin' at me durin' a press conference."
"Did you just joke about someone trying to kill me?" To say he was unimpressed was an understatement. Seto glared at him. "They could have hit Mokuba."
"Oh, but shootin' at you is okay?" the blond laughed, shaking his head. "God, Kaiba, you are so weird. It's a good thing I'm used t' that, though." He smiled up at him, then stood, dusting the knees of his jeans off. "I'll be back with some water for your feet."
Seto fingered the roll of bills in his pocket that Madam Hiroshi had pushed into his hands before she'd directed him away, wondering if he should tuck a couple into the blond's pocket before he left. He was almost certain that that was part of the reason she'd given him the money—to pay for help. He didn't think that Joey would accept it though.
Maybe he'd sneak it into his shoe or pillowcase or something before he and Mokuba had to move again, to keep whoever was trying to kill them this time off their tracks.
