Title: Oblivious

Author: Scylla the Healer

Rating: R (We're just going to be sure.)

Name versions: American Dub (Joey, Tristan, Duke, etc.)

Warnings: Shonen-ai. I know what pairings are going to happen, but I'm not listing them here. You'll just have to find out. I can list what won't be here. No Kaiba/Joey, no Yami/Yugi. Ech. Those two turn me off, big time.

Summary: Post-NoA arc, slightly AU. The characters are all legal by now, twenty-three or thereabouts. Problem is, Yugi and Yami have a crucial difference of opinion, and in order to accommodate both of them, they have to split. Yugi organizes an expedition in search of a legendary gem to do the job.

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! and all of its bits and pieces are copyrighted by the one and only Kazuki Takahashi.

- ~ -

It all started with the headline in Monday's newspaper. That particular paper wasn't at all special. A sale on rice in the third section. Sombody's house broken into by another victim of a desperate crack addiction. Cars were stolen. Rickety houseboats sank just off the harbor shores. Nothing interesting.

Kaiba flipped the paper over. Out of personal preference, he generally didn't dither with the front page at all. He read the back page first, merely for the pleasure of defeating the paper's entire organizational system. He was a corporate giant, he knew everything that front page could tell him already, anyway. More about this or that politician, he supposed. Some tyrant of industry claiming bankruptcy. Old news…

"DOMINO MAN ORGANIZES EXPEDITION FOR ANCIENT BRAZILIAN GEM"

And under that…

"Artifact valued at over $3.5M, not just stuff of folklore and legends, local historians say..."

The block print was a magnet. It wasn't the main story – that was about the trade of bioengineered chickens. Not even the second one – a new panda born at the local zoo grabbed that spot.

But the unimportant third line made the darkhaired crown prince of gaming capitalism blink. Then frown.

"Duke."

"Would you stop-"

"Duke come here."

Muttering passionately under his breath, "whistle at me, why don't you…not a fecking dog…Duke…my ass…" the other games creator joined his companion at the breakfast table, orange juice in hand.

"Read this." Kaiba handed up the front section of the paper, folded down to expose the third headline for the shocking revelation that it was.

Devlin smoothed the crisp paper unnecessarily and scanned the sheet as he sipped his juice. He swallowed, and shook his head. "I don't see…"

"Keep reading," Kaiba commanded.

There was another few moments of silence, and then a sharply indrawn breath. Devlin's.

"See?"

The older of the two men sat, looking up, well-pleased with himself as he awaited Devlin's response. Not for the first time, the green-eyed younger man was tempted to aim a punch at that too-pretty chin.

"Looks like Yugi's at it again," He responded, in as level and disinterested a tone as he could muster, and handed back the paper after making the pretense of scanning further through for something of more interest. There was no way he intended to let on about even a pale smudge of surprise.

A pity when relationships crumbled to the point of raw pettiness.

Kaiba huffed noncommittally, shrugged, and slapped the paper open again. Searching for the end of the article…hadn't he read it earlier…on page…a-ha! "Just wait until you hear about the crack troops he's got going with him."

Devlin leaned a hip against Kaiba's chair, hanging over his shoulder in his intensely listening way that used to make the brunette look up and touch his lover to be sure that he still breathed. Kaiba could practically feel the other's longing ache for the brush of his fingertips. It had been a long time, hadn't it? A very long time…

Frowning, he shook the stubborn crease out of the paper and smoothed it on the table.

"I can guess," Devlin hid his disappointment in sarcasm, finishing the dregs of orange juice left in his glass and mouthing the names along with Kaiba as the other boy read them off. He headed back to the kitchen, still following along.

"Participants in the expedition include historian Ryou Bakura, botanist Joseph Wheeler, archaeologist Tristan Taylor, and longtime friend Teá Gardner."

"Just Teá? You mean, not Teá Gardner PhD…or something like that?" Devlin ignored the annoying little hitch in his heartbeat and the insignificant roar of blood in his ears when Kaiba said Tristan's name. It meant nothing. It had always meant nothing. The toaster popped. He turned to take care of it, cream cheese spread thickly over the toasted bagel slices simply for the sheer sensual luxury. The knife clattered to the floor and he cursed.

"I don't know," Kaiba replied, unmoved by the display behind him, "It seems not."

"One woman with all those men? What is she, then? The sex bicycle?" Devlin snickered and bent with a grunt to retrieve the lost knife.

"Don't be crude." Kaiba had picked up the paper again, and it twitched in irritation. "They're leaving in two weeks for a two-day flight from Domino City to Panama, and from there to Brazil. I know Yugi's grandfather was almost fanatical about ancient treasures…but isn't all this nonsense for a single stone a bit much?"

Devlin, leaning absently against the counter with a second glass of juice and half a bagel, didn't answer. It didn't really matter, as the question was rhetoric, anyway. Kaiba went on, just as he usually did. He talked to himself much of the time; a habit he'd learned by living with a talking computer. At first, Devlin thought it was cute.

These days, it was just damned annoying.

Could he get away from it? All of it?

"Besides, I know Yugi, and Yugi doesn't have the money to cover a trip like this…"

"I wonder if they could use a hand…"

"Unless his grandfather left him the cash…"

"I'm going with them."

"But that old fart was too loose with his funds to have anything put away…"

"Seto, I'm going with them."

"And whatever they had, anyway, Yugi probably spent on his funeral…"

"Seto!"

"…what?" Kaiba rounded on his mate at the sudden, unexpected shout, spinning to pin him with the gaze of a blue-eyed cobra. Unimpressed, Devlin tossed his hair – down, at this time of the morning – and fixed his lover with an unflinching green stare. Slender hands balled into fists, and crossed over his chest in a show of base defiance. Kaiba's tyranny was over. Gods watch over poor little Mokuba.

"I said," Devlin repeated, in as even a tone as he could, "that I'm going with them."

"Nonsense," Kaiba grated, waving a hand in curt dismissal to the sudden upsurging dream, "they don't even like you."

"Maybe they would if you weren't such an asshole." Dark, blue-black sheened hair fanned out behind him as Devlin crammed the last bite of bagel into his mouth and turned to sweep out of the room. A firm hand clamped over his wrist, arresting him midstride. He spun to meet a familiar blue gaze, gone so angry and icy that it chilled him to the bone. He shivered.

"Never call me that again." Kaiba's voice was low, but disturbingly clear. And dangerous. Green eyes wide, Devlin shook his head in a frantic attempt to mollify his mate. Then, with a growl, Kaiba dragged him into a bruising, possessive kiss. Devlin was his. And he didn't like the thought of anyone else touching what was his, regardless of whether he needed it or used it or even liked it. "You're not going."

Another agonized twitch of Devlin's head indicated that no, he wasn't going. All of his fire extinguished. Kaiba nodded in satisfaction and released his wrist. He rubbed at the red fingerprints blossoming on his skin, and held his breath.

Kaiba pushed past him, taller, heavier form almost knocking Devlin against the refrigerator in the force of his passing, and disappeared down the hall to the master bedroom to change for work.

Three more seconds passed of almost painfully attentive listening.

Silence.

The withheld breath spilled outward in a gusty sigh of relief, and Devlin sagged back until the cool metal of the refrigerator door pushed comfortingly against his shoulders. He stared sightlessly at the empty doorway where Kaiba had gone, listening for the sound of footsteps, then water running, then the snick of a briefcase slapping shut and more footsteps dissipating down the stairwell. The rumble of a car pulling up – Kaiba's limo. Murmurs of voices just barely within earshot, and the heavy clack of the massive front doors falling shut behind him. The rumble of the limo's motor grew distant; faded to silence.

Devlin slid down the refrigerator door to the floor and buried his head in his arms.