Rebirth
by Ceresi
Rating: R
WARNING: There are spoilers for the HP books in here. I know, it's crazy. Also, slash, and one racy little R scene. ALSO. This is still, for all intents and purposes, a rough draft. I've had it betaed and edited it several times myself, but I'm working on a sequal, and some changes might be necessary.
Want more notes? See Chapter One.
***
Mokuba had never realized how long dinner was. There was just so much food. And there was something sedate and calm about the entire meal, something that really demanded conversation.
Or maybe it was just that Mrs. Kamazaki wasn't there to fill the silences.
Seto was eating his spaghetti with a very distracted air. He caught Mokuba looking at him and floundered briefly, clearly searching for a topic of conversation.
Oddly embarrassed, Mokuba stared at his plate. "What did you do at school today?"
"Just school stuff," Mokuba said neutrally.
"Like what?"
"Uh, nothing." Seto gave him the look. "All right. We . . . talked about Harry Potter during English."
Seto was amused. "I thought those books were Satanic."
"Oh, they are, only not." Mokuba ran his hands through his hair. "They're way too long. Each book is three books, and each of those three books are three books. They're massive. It's like reading a dictionary."
"At least they're interesting."
"British schoolboys are not interesting," Mokuba said wryly. Well, all right, they were, but -- "What did you do at work today?"
Seto was entirely off-put by the question. He stared above Mokuba's head, clearly thinking hard. "Meetings. Paperwork. Absolutely nothing interesting."
"Something exciting had to happen."
"You overestimate the business world," Seto said. "Excitement is never a given."
Mokuba frowned, shredding his garlic bread. "What about Duel Monsters?" he asked. The words felt funny on his tongue; how long had it been since they talked about Duel Monsters? "And your inventions. Don't you work with them anymore?"
Seto looked almost rueful. "When I have time."
"Make time."
"You sound like the dog."
Mokuba was briefly confused, and then he laughed. "Well, that's two of us. I'll just call up Yugi, Mai, and Ryou, and between the five of us maybe you'll listen . . ."
Seto cocked an eyebrow at him. He wasn't eating his spaghetti; Mokuba ought to chide him, but really, he was old enough to eat his own food.
"You won't be calling anyone," Seto reminded him. "You're grounded."
Mokuba frowned. "D'you have to have to rub it in?"
"Yes." Seto stood and started moving towards the kitchen. "How else can I relish my power if I don't rub it in?" He ruffled Mokuba's hair and set his plate on the kitchen counter.
Mokuba turned in his chair, propping his chin on his forearm and asking, "Are you going to go work?"
"For a little while." The door swung shut behind Seto; his hands fell automatically to his pockets as looked down at his younger brother with amusement. "Need something to do?"
Mokuba eyed him. "You look decidedly wicked. I'm thinking no."
Seto shrugged, face suddenly a hint too unreadable. "Suit yourself."
~
"You just have to be patient with him."
Daisuke sighed dramatically, his head resting in Mokuba's lap. "I don't think I can handle this."
Mokuba rolled his eyes. "Fine. You think up a plan to convince Seto to let me off the hook, and I'll do whatever you want."
Daisuke was intrigued. "Anything I want?"
"Anything at all."
"God damn."
Mokuba was supposed to be in Calculus and Daisuke in the office, working as an aide. Instead, they were cuddled in their favorite hiding place, the sun beating down on them warmly. When he wasn't punching Daisuke for being a smart-ass, Mokuba's hand rested on his sun-warmed brown-and-blue hair -- when he wasn't punching Mokuba in turn, Daisuke played with the lapels of his jacket.
"You sound intrigued," Mokuba observed.
"Perhaps I am." Daisuke propped himself up on his elbows, his chin level with Mokuba's belly button. Brown eyes gleamed, quick and bright. "Now, to conjure a plan capable of defeating the scariest person on earth . . ."
A bit defensively, Mokuba said, "He's not that bad."
"Oh, he is."
Mokuba gave him a firm little nudge with his knee. Sure, Seto was strict, and cold with people that he didn't know. But those idiots hadn't seen him over the years, always stubborn and protective, forever bearing the brunt of Mokuba's vulnerability.
"He's not," Mokuba said, a little commandingly. Just like Seto, he thought later.
"Sure," Daisuke said, obviously a touch annoyed. "Whatever you say." There was an awkward silence as he pushed himself into a sitting position at Mokuba's side, and then he stood. "I need to get back to the office. Talk to you later."
Mokuba frowned. What was he supposed to do, then? He couldn't exactly waltz into class half an hour late.
"Fine," he said. Daisuke didn't look at him as he slung his book bag over his shoulder, or as he kicked his way through the brush and left.
Mokuba popped up a minute later, halfway hoping he could call Daisuke over again, but all he could see were the glass doors swinging shut.
