Title: Tomorrow
Theme: 78 – always
Summary: There'd always be tomorrow.
Rating: G
Genre: General
Words: 1379

The sound of the shower awoke him first. Yugi didn't bother opening his eyes – it had to be at least two am, and he wasn't in the mood to check to see if he was right – but that was definitely the hum of water hitting the tiles down the hallway, and that was definitely a familiar voice swearing in between other muttered, barely identifiable words, something about shampoo and proper hygiene and how annoying it was of society to expect one to indulge in both. Smiling a bit, Yugi let himself drift off into sleep again. He'd speak to Yami about midnight shower experimentations in the morning.

When he awoke the next time, it was to the undeniable sound of the television blaring loudly in the living room. Yugi cracked open his eyes to see flashes flickering across the hallway from what he could see through the sliver of light in the doorway. A quick glance at his bedside clock told him it was precisely 2:04 in the morning, and from the high-pitched sounds of squealing monster noises – there was no doubt about it – Yami was downstairs watching Pokémon reruns.

Heaven help him. Yugi pulled the covers over his head and satisfied himself with putting another item on his growing list of rules he was crafting for their new living accommodations – no early-morning tv marathons, for one, no matter how bored Yami may be or "I'm not tired, aibou, I swear"s that Yugi had to listen to. But it was also, he felt, too early to go lecturing Yami about keeping it down; the man had just gotten his body back, for goodness sake, and Yugi figured he could be excused for his impatience and mindlessness by forgetting the other occupant in the house. By all means, the pharaoh could use some free time to explore the house and its modern technology without worry he would be bothering another soul with whom he shared a body.

In the morning, then. They'd talk about it in the morning.

But that was weird to think about.

Wasn't it, though? He'd never have allowed himself to assume there would be a next day, an 'in the morning' in most cases. Back in the days with the Puzzle, Yami had been everywhere and nowhere; omnipresent and yet unable to manifest in any sort of physical state. There was really no counting on something – someone – like that, someone that could vanish at any time, like dust in the wind, but Yugi had anyway. Most people probably wouldn't put up with it, wouldn't believe it was worth it. And honestly, they'd probably be right. But Yugi never minded.

And the death, the duel, the doors. The test, he supposed was the proper word for it, though it still hurt, just a bit, to think of his pain and grief being measured on the great scales or karma, or something along those lines. But then whichever gods Up There had decided to give the pharaoh a second chance at life, as if to somehow make up for the mess his first one had somehow become, and well, it wasn't like Yugi wasn't going to say no to knowing that there could be a tomorrow with him.

The idea that there was a tomorrow at all still leaves him reeling. It'd been less than twenty-four hours and it still hadn't hit him yet. He was sure it would, soon, too. But for now, it was dark and it was warm and it wasn't entirely quiet, but… but the background noise of the television was a bit comforting in its own way, if not for the sounds of the airing program than at least for the knowledge of who Yugi knew was really there, sitting in front of the set.

So Yugi buried his head in the pillow again, disregarding that mental list of rules, and went back to sleep.

When he awoke once more, over an hour later judging by his bedside clock, he heard the sounds of pans and dishes clashing down in the kitchen, and stuffed his pillow over his head. Yugi liked to think he was a relatively patient person considering the circumstances, but this was a little ridiculous.

He wasn't all that mad, no. But maybe he should reconsider that list of rules.

Fire minutes, Yugi told himself, and then he'd go downstairs and coax Yami back into bed, where they'd fall asleep for another ten or twelve hours and then do whatever he wanted in the morning.

He waited five minutes. Then ten. Then another five, and finally, the sound of a light flicking off downstairs and the slow, steady pace of footsteps climbing the stairs.

The next thing he knew Yami was in the doorway, silent as a ghost, and he slid to the edge of the bed in a cautious hesitancy that Yugi wasn't sure he'd seen before. The pharaoh sat like that for a while, quiet but not tense, peaceful but not opening, before Yugi made the decision for the both of them.

"Come back to bed," he said, eyes closed and stretching one hand out.

Something other than Yami's hand touched him instead, something flat and rather fuzzy and nearly weightless. Yugi opened his eyes and squinted in the low lighting to find – a slice of bread lying neatly atop his outstretched palm.

"I thought a shower would be a good start," Yami said quietly.

Yugi was so lost the best he managed was a very articulate, "Huh?"

"A shower," the pharaoh said again. "I'm told it's appropriate to clean oneself up before a meal with someone you care for."

Yugi blinked, long and slow.

"There was no movie on television that you'd like to see," he continued. "That was another thing that has been recommended. A film of some sort while we ate. But I couldn't find anything appropriate."

And he wouldn't, Yugi reasoned, and two in the morning, but he found himself so startled by this quiet confession that he held off on a witty remark.

"I figured it best to move straight to the meal itself," Yami said. "Though I clearly overlooked my culinary skills." It was impossible to see, of course, but Yugi could imagine Yami tilting his head down, just a fraction, to stare at the ground – the physical version, he supposed, of what might have once been an embarrassed retreating into his soul room.

"By the time I realized a full meal would require more planning than I had knowledge of, I was settling myself to make simple toast, at the very least." A pause. "But I wasn't sure if you would forgive me if I accidentally messed up the toaster like Joey had once joked."

Something in Yugi's heart clenched. He sat up slowly, watching Yami's still form, and then wordlessly split the slice of bread in half, offering him one of the pieces.

Yami didn't exactly pause, but he did wait a long moment to take the bread; he waited longer still to watch Yugi start eating himself before he began nibbling on his half miserably.

When he'd finished, Yugi pulled him gently underneath the covers. "Yami," he said, "it's okay."

"I didn't – " A pause. Yugi imagined him swallowing. "Know what to do."

Coming from a pharaoh, this felt momentous. Coming from a man with an ego the size of Australia, this confession, and the words themselves, indicated something that touched him so purely and honestly that Yugi wasn't sure if he was awake enough to give the moment the concentration it seemed to deserve.

But he didn't feel like dissecting it at all right now, didn't feel as if he could find any more hidden meaning in this simple act of telling than he would be able to normally. Yami would always be there to talk about it if he wanted. But maybe there wasn't much talking that needed to be said, anyway, after something like this. It may be nice for him to hear, though, later, but not now. There'd always have more time.

"No," Yugi said, and under his lead Yami finally, finally leaned down to lay down on the bed next to him, side by side. "But it's okay. I'll teach you in the morning."