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.
***
It took exactly twelve steps for Mokuba to go from the right wall to the left. It took almost fourteen from front to back.
Mokuba contemplated calling the mansion's architect, telling him that the bedroom he'd designed was defective. It wasn't square. Rooms were supposed to be square.
He sighed and flopped into bed. It was sad, how bored he was.
But he couldn't call Daisuke again, he'd been forced off the phone by his sister. And he couldn't go and talk to Seto.
So, he picked himself up out of bed and went down to the kitchen.
Mrs. Kamazaki was putting the dishes away. She caught sight of him and lifted an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?"
"It's only nine," he said, sitting on one of the bar stools in front of the counter. The room smelled like chicken; Mokuba looked around hungrily to see if some was left, but there was none in sight.
"You should get to bed early," Mrs. Kamazaki chided. "That way you'll be nice and rested for school tomorrow."
"Yeah, I usually go to bed at ten. I'm just not tired."
She took sympathy on him and relented. "I heard you arguing with Mr. Kaiba earlier," she said. She gave him one of her looks. "Is that why you're having trouble sleeping?"
"I"m not having trouble sleeping," he corrected waspishly. "I'm just not tired."
"Hmph."
Mokuba waited for a minute, then said softly, "We got into a fight."
She put a plate away and shook her head. "You know, he's just concerned about you, sweetie."
"He's annoying," Mokuba said hotly. At her shocked look, he added, "When he was my age, he wasn't even in school. When he was ten he was skipping half his classes. He told me so himself!"
"Did he?" she asked, putting away a glass. "When did he tell you that?"
"When he was doing it," Mokuba said promptly.
"Really? So he came right home and told you, did he?"
It didn't sound like she believed him. "Yes," Mokuba said. "He came right home and told me."
"Huh." She shrugged, closing a cabinet. "Well then. If he was skipping school when he was ten to play video games or goof off with his friends, then he can't lecture you, can he?"
Mokuba started to agree . . . and paused. Seto hadn't been skipping school to play video games or goof off with his friends; often, he'd been taking private 'lessons' from their foster father. And the other times . . . .
He'd never asked, but he distinctly remembered Seto coming home from school and playing with him -- Duel Monsters usually, or they would just sit and talk. Sometimes the servants even slipped them food and hand held games.
Mrs. Kamazaki closed the last of the cabinets and leaned against the counter, watching him with sympathetic eyes. "Can he, Mokuba?"
Mokuba looked down at his feet. "No," he said.
There was a long pause.
"I wasn't doing anything wrong," Mokuba said defiantly. "It's not like I need to be in class all the time, I'm smart enough to figure it out."
"But he never said you did anything wrong, or that you needed to be, did he?"
"He practically did," Mokuba said. "He all but did."
Mrs. Kamazaki shook her head. "Mr. Kaiba would never say something like that," she said gently. "He loves you like you were his son, not his brother."
Coldly, Mokuba said, "What do you know? Psychologists have proven that siblings aren't as good as real parents."
She was disappointed him. "I know what I've seen," she said. "That's enough. If you were looking, you'd see it too."
~
Riiiiiiiing.
Seto propped his feet on the desk, glowered at the closed door of the study. Inwardly, he was daring one of the servants to intrude.
Riiiiiiiing.
Where the hell was Joey, anyway? Or his roommate? Between the two of them -- well, the three of them, if you counted the pharaoh -- someone ought to answer the damn phone. Of course, it was expecting a bit much to assume that the do-gooder Yugi or the puppy knew how to operate the thing.
Riiiiiiiing.
Seto seriously considered calling back later.
The ringing stopped abruptly and there was a frantic, " 'yello?"
"Joey?"
"Actually, no, it's Yugi." Funny, how long-distance phone calls transmitted such bad sound but such good sarcasm. "I've begun talkin' like Joey. Can't you tell?"
"Yes," Seto said wearily. "You are Joey."
"Hey, what's wrong with you? You sound like someone ran over your, ah, dog." Embarrassed silence. "Pun not intended."
Seto snorted and pushed his hair off his forehead. "Very nice. There's hope for you yet, Wheeler."
"Seriously, what's buggin' ya?"
"Nothing," Seto lied automatically.
"Mokuba, huh?"
Seto leaned back in his chair. "For the purposes of scientific knowledge," he said, "how do you do that, precisely?"
"What d'we have here, one duelist askin' another for tips? Isn't that cheatin'?"
"Funny."
"Did he miss curfew again?"
Seto blinked at the ceiling. His eyes were gritty and dry with tiredness. "Joey, he's grounded. He can't miss curfew. He has no curfew. He's not allowed out."
"He's still grounded?"
"I told you that he's grounded for two months!"
"I thought you'd've let up by now. You've never grounded 'im this long."
"Of course I have." Seto rubbed his eyes. Joey sounded obnoxiously perky and awake. There was a time difference. Little bastard. "There was that one time he was grounded for a week . . ."
"Yeah, but you let up in two days. C'mon, Seto, what's really goin' on here?"
Gritting his teeth, Seto told him.
A moment later:
"The text said what?"
"You heard me." Seto left his chair, sat on the ledge of the full-length window. The cold air outside helped wake him up.
Joey sounded furious. "What little bastard wrote that? If I ever get ahold of 'im . . . I'll pound the livin' daylights out of 'im!"
Seto smirked to himself. Joey was so reliable.
"Christ, writin' a thing like that to Mokuba! Little --" he growled.
"You know," Seto said fairly, "Mokuba is fifteen. I'm sure that's . . . normal."
Joey souded horrified. "What!"
"What were you like at fifteen?"
This bought a moment's deep introspection from the puppy. Finally, he said, "Uh, good point. So . . . still, though. I'm not gonna let some little punk . . . take advantage of Mokuba like that. You know."
So they were both thinking the same thing: the famous Kaiba charm -- basically, money -- had outdone itself again.
"Well, he is grounded for two months," Seto said. He leaned against the window frame with a sigh. His entire body ached with tiredness and tension-strain. It had been . . . how long since someone touched him, helped relieve his stress? Since Joey left after the Christmas holidays. "That should take care of things for a while."
"I don't know about that," Joey warned. "He'll start cuttin' class next, to be with . . . whoever it is."
Seto gritted his teeth again. Cutting class. "That reminds me . . ."
Once he finished relating the phone call he'd recieved from Mokuba's teacher, Joey asked, "You think that's what he was doin'? Skippin' calculus to be with this kid?"
"It looks like it."
"Man." Joey sighed. "At least with Serenity I could let Mom take care of it. All I had to do was beat up anyone who looked too long or treated her bad."
Like Taylor? That explains why they're not talking. At least he didn't have to worry about Joey hearing about the attack through Tristan. He still hadn't told anyone about Soichiro -- his biggest worry was that Taylor would run his mouth.
"Beating people up isn't an option for me," Seto said wryly. He let his eyes close as he leaned against the frame. Even his hands ached.
"Nah. Well, you could afford the lawsuit. But you know enough martial arts that it'd be overkill." Joey sighed again. "Seto, there's nothin' you can do. Mokuba's growin' up, you know? That's normal."
Seto's stomach roiled with the thought. "I don't like it."
"Nah." Joey's voice was affectionate. "That's 'cause you're old enough to know what happens next. But for Mokuba, it's still fun." Seto said nothing. "C'mon, Seto. Lighten up on the kid."
"I'm not ungrounding him if that's what he'll run around doing," Seto said coldly. He was treated to a frustrated silence. "Joey, I can't. D'you --" He stopped himself. "I'm tired. I need to go."
"Hey." Joey sounded surprised and hurt. "I know what he means to you." He was probably one of the few people in the world who did. "And he loves you just as much, ya know?" Joey sounded thoughtful. "He thinks you're the best person in the world. He trusts you to look after him, that's why he's never afraid. D'you know?"
"Not really," Seto said honestly. He didn't know anything at all, not this late. Just that he missed Joey, and that he was worried; about Mokuba growing up, about Mokuba being in danger, about getting a call from a hospital one day. He could imagine it so well: a saddened nurse saying there had been an accident, that an unidentified attacker saw Mokuba out by himself and . . . .
He heard Joey's rueful grin. "D'you know I love you?"
Joey didn't hang up right away, but Seto had been training himself for months in preparation. So he said, "I love you," back, too quickly.
He heard Joey's soft laugh, pleased and cocky.
Embarrassed, Seto added, "Chihuahua."
"Hey!" Another laugh, this one bolder, but still gentle. Seto allowed himself a smirk. Yeah, it was funny. Joey was going to pay for it, though. "Sleep tight, Seto. Term ends tomorrow."
Seto hung up reluctantly, and looked at the phone in his hands. He touched the bandages wrapped around his middle -- expensive Accelerated Healing techniques meant they'd be off in the morning, although he'd be sore. Joey would never know that he'd been injured.
He wasn't sure if that was a good thing. In his heart, he really wanted Joey to know.
Tomorrow, he reminded himself. You'll see him tomorrow.
Things would be better then.
