Chapter Eight
Kumori Sakusha: Yees, a fanart series is in the works. So far I have a grand total of...one. Here's the link, if anyone's interested (sopy and paste, then delete the spacesXP) ?pid131097
setokaibawheeler: er..here's more? Don't kill me...and chapter nine's almost done...it'll make the rating go up, just t' warn you ...
Calico Avengi: Your fanart's on the way, m'dear. Your prediction was half-right? What's the other half?
Firey Charizard: (joins you in bashing Yutou into a pile of goo with the Spiky Mallet o' Doom). And thanks for being concerned about my safety...a boy my age died...he was hit by a tree...very, very sad....
Arora: Well, frightening panic was kinda what I was going for. I'm glad I suceeded. Yes, the part about him losing the games WAS sad, but it kinf of explains his fixation on defeating Yuugi. And yes, I do live in Florida.
Enzya: I don't like Yutou either. We should kill him. You cried? I actually made someone cry? Is it wrong that that makes me happy?
mandapandabug: Glad you liked it, and I'm glad you liked the fic I wrote for ya too. Everyone, please go read "Just Like You." I'm so proud of it. It's a one-shot SetoxJou angst, but it is rated R for a reason, so watch out.
Rosalyn Angel: Glad you liked your fanart. Best chapter yet Wai! I'm really fond of my little Seto-breakdown too. I like it muchly. Yes, major mood swings and uber-messed up bishies ... what could be better?
The Summer Stars: Always nice to have a new reviewer! Wow, three times in two days? (cries with joy) They really like me! And yes, Mokie will show up more, don't worry.
chittyco: Another new reviewer! Wai! That was a hell of a run-on sentence, but who cares! You like my writing!
Danielle: Amazing? (is seriously going to start crying)
Nikyo: Wouldn't want you to go insane. Here's your update!
Kaiba Seto was not a morning person by any means. Oh, sure, he got up and six in the morning to check stocks and so forth, but that was more habit than anything. He found comfort in routine.
So it was no surprise that he was rather upset to wake up in a stark white room with his limbs strapped to an uncomfortable hospital bed. "Rrgh," he grunted, pulling at his restraints.
"Seto!" Jou jerked awake from his equally uncomfortable hospital chair.
"Observant of you. Was this your idea? Very kinky, pup. Didn't know you had it in you." He tugged at his bonds again. "You mind?"
"I dunno, you promise you won' do anythin' stupid?"
"Hate to take your job away from you," Seto replied as Jou unbuckled his arms. He winced as blood flowed back into the limbs, setting tiny fires on his nerve endings. "This is a hell of a way to wake up."
Jou freed his legs. "You okay?"
"I have a massive headache and I can't move my major extremities. Never been better."
"I'm serious, Seto."
"So am I. I ache." He stared at his arm, willing it to move. He was ridiculously happy when his fingers twitched a bit. "So, what happened?"
"You don' remember?"
"No, did I get drunk?" That would explain the headache.
"Not exactly. I think your headache's got somethin' t' do wit' the syringe a' sedatives Aizawa-san had t' empty into you. You seriously don' remember dat?"
"No." He tried to sit up and failed, succeeding only in bashing his head against the hard mattress. "Did I have another attack?"
"I dunno," Jou said, glancing at his feet. He was still in his dress clothes; had he slept by Seto's side all night? It would have been touching had Seto been in a better mood. "It was kinda different than da las' one."
"Care to elaborate on that, mutt? How was it 'kinda different'?"
"It was like you were a little kid or somethin'. You didn't use all dem big words and insults and stuff. You were sorta like a really deranged Mokuba."
"I ... what?" For the first time in quite a while, Seto was speechless. This had never happened to him before; Aizawa had warned him about possible regressions in mental age if the trauma wasn't dealt with, but Seto hadn't seriously thought— "What's wrong with me?"
"I don' know. Aizawa-san's writin' da report righ' now." Jou shrugged.
"Why did you stay?"
"I was worried about you."
Seto snorted. "Did you sleep?"
"A little."
Seto gave him a Look.
"...no."
"How easily you cave. Come on than," he said, finally managing to push himself off of the bed. "I need to go talk to the nice shrink."
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"It was triggered by your encounter with Yutou-san."
"No kidding."
"I did warn you, Kaiba-san—"
"That there was a possibility! Not that it was likely!"
"Would you have done anything different?"
"Good point." Seto was on the verge of ripping out his perfectly groomed chestnut mane by the handful. "What now? What's wrong with me?"
"That's a loaded question," Aizawa replied, jotting down something in Seto's file. "I'd say this looks like a textbook case of split personality."
"Split—tell me you're kidding."
"Afraid not, Kaiba-san. You did describe in one of our earlier sessions a conversation you had during Duelist Kingdom with a younger version of yourself?"
"I'm afraid I don't remember."
"During the battle with Motou Yuugi, when it seemed you were about to lose the chance to save Mokuba-san, you described a vivid image of yourself as a ten-year-old child, an image that spoke to you, cursed you for not being able to help your brother."
"Yes." He remembered now. "I am not insane."
"Kaiba-san, it's not irreversible. Just take your meds and stop skipping our sessions. This is still in the early stages; the alternate personality hasn't begun to manifest when you're conscious yet."
"How am I supposed to run a company like this?" Seto was pacing now, fiddling with his watch in irritation.
"I think Kaiba Corp's the least of your worries now, Kaiba-san. Have Mokuba take over. Take a few months off. Take a vacation."
"I don't do relaxation. Sorry, Aizawa-san, I'm going to have to—"
"Is your money more important to you than your mental health?" Damn, Kaiba Seto was the most stubborn, pigheaded—
"Alright."
What?
"Pardon me, Kaiba-san?"
"I'll do it. Relax. Take a vacation." He sighed and flopped onto the couch. "How long?"
"I don't know. A few weeks, maybe? Then we'll start our regular sessions up again."
"A few—"He bit off the rest of the protest. "Fine."
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"Are you serious?" Jou took a sip of his drink, surveying his boyfriend over the rim. "I mean, dis isn' a joke?"
"Is it so unusual that I do something nice for you?"
"Well ... yeah."
"Kind of makes one wonder why you put up with me."
"Been wonderin' da same thing myself," Jou smirked, swirling the wine in his glass. Seeing the startled look on Seto's face, he laughed and set the drink down. "You really need to learn how t' take a joke."
"I'm not really used to humour."
"Neva woulda noticed."
"Anyways, that aside, pup, can you take a week or two off of work?"
"Well, yeah, I guess. Yuug can cover for me. So what, we hangin' at your place?"
"What? No, I meant a vacation. Out of the country."
Jou dropped his wineglass. "Oh, shit!" he swore when a deep-red stain flushed over the white tablecloth. A waiter ran over to remove the offending item. "I am so sorry!"
"Don't worry about it, Jonouchi-san," the waiter said, waving a dismissive hand. "It can be washed."
"Seriously? I can pay—"
"No, no, that's quite unnecessary. It was an accident."
"Wasn't quite the reaction I was expecting," Seto said with a small smile after the waiter had left, presumably to wash their tablecloth. "I take it you'd like to go?"
"Well, yeah! Where're we goin'?"
"I was thinking New York City, perhaps. I have a few apartments there—"
"America?"
"Something wrong with that?"
"I can' ... "he broke off, blushing. "I can' speak English."
"They teach it in school," Seto replied.
"I've neva been great in school, you know dat."
"True, but ... it shouldn't be a big problem. Didn't you live there for a few years, though?"
"I was little. I don' think I remember any of it."
"You'd be surprised how well you retain things from childhood."
"Ah, hell, it don' matter if I understand anything! I've missed New York. This is gonna be great!" He practically threw himself over the table, wrapping his arms around Seto. "Thank you so much!"
"Mutt ... "Seto warned.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Public display of affection."
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Jou had never been happier. He was going to America! With Seto! He knew he had a stupid grin on his face, but he was hard-pressed to care. He hummed to himself as he unlocked his apartment door, tossing the keys on the counter.
He hadn't been to America since he was a boy, and he'd missed the diversity. His mother was a native New Yorker, and they'd visited a lot when his folks had still been together. They'd even lived there for a few years when his mother's law firm had transferred her to the American branch.
He knew that Seto had been to New York before, but he doubted that the CEO had seen anything outside the walls of a meeting hall. Seto was going to relax if it killed him.
Now if only he could find his damn suitcase ...
Jou glanced around his apartment, wincing. He'd been busy lately, he rationalized. He hated living in a messy apartment, probably because it was always his job to clean up after his father. The man would have been perfectly happy with week-old Chinese takeout rotting under the couch.
Jou wrinkled his nose. It looked like a tornado had ravaged every belonging he owned. Clothes were thrown haphazardly over chairs, the sink was piled high with dirty dishes, and he could barely see the carpet through the layer of junk covering it. "Aw, man," he groaned. In his buoyant mood, the last thing he wanted to do was depress himself by cleaning, but he was sure that he didn't have enough clean clothes for two weeks in New York.
In fact, what was he expected to wear? He only owned one suit ...
He made a mental note to call Kaiba, then rolled up his sleeves and began the long, arduous task of making his apartment livable again.
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"New York? Wow," Honda said, trying to edge a fry off of Bakura's plate without him noticing. He yelped when Bakura buried his fork in the back of his hand. "Ow!"
"This is my food, mortal."
"You don't even like fries!" Honda gave the tomb robber his most mournful look.
"You're right. I don't." He turned to his hikari. "Want these?"
Ryou blinked at him. "I think Honda wanted them ... "
"Too bad," Bakura said sweetly, tipping the fries onto Ryou's plate. "Eat up, you're too skinny."
Ryou blushed. "Since when are you my mother?"
"If I am, you've got some sort of Oedipal complex," Bakura said through a mouthful of nearly-raw steak. Ryou flushed even darker and swatted Bakura with his napkin.
"Give the fries to Honda, yami," he commanded. Bakura complied, with a pout that would have been cute had it been on anyone else.
"You try to do something nice for once ... "he muttered. Honda grinned and bolted down the fries.
"Anyway, that's great Jou," Yuugi said with a smile. He knew how worried his friend was about Kaiba, and he was glad that the CEO was treating him well. "I've been meaning to ask, what's with the collar?" Yuugi toyed with the buckle around his own neck. "Didn't realize I was such a trendsetter."
Jou laughed. "I tried dat already, Yuug. I don' know how you can wear dat leatha stuff so much. It's damn uncomfortable." He brushed self-conscious fingers over his tag. "Dis was a gift."
"From Seto? Kinky." Otogi met Jou's glare with wide, innocent emerald eyes.
"Don' push your luck," Jou growled, but he was joking. Mostly.
"Did I hurt the puppy's feelings?"
"For Ra's sake," Malik snapped. "Will you two give it a rest?"
They both stared at the blonde Egyptian. "We haven't even gotten started yet," Otogi said, sounding slightly hurt.
"I'm just sick of listening to you argue!"
"Don't listen to him," Marik said, gnawing on a steak nearly as bloody as Bakura's. "He's just pissy because Isis is coming home tomorrow."
"You don't want her to?" Yami arched an eyebrow at Malik. "I thought you liked your sister.
"I do. She just has a terrible habit of walking in at inopportune moments." Malik blushed. "Really inopportune moments."
"Don' really wanna think about dat," Jou announced. He glanced down at his watch. "I'd better get goin'. We're leavin' early tomorrow and I haven't packed yet."
"What're you taking?" Otogi asked, speaking up for the first time since they'd sat down to eat.
"Uh ... clothes?" Jou said helpfully.
"Not that, I hope?" Otogi gestured to Jou's faded black T-shirt and torn jeans.
"What's wrong wit' dis?"
"Nothing, if you're going for the hobo look. It's New York, my dear, and it's crawling with people ready and willing to pry your CEO away from you."
"And me dressin' differently has what t' do wit' dat?"
Otogi waved his hand at Jou, as if he were shooing away a particularly irritating fly. "It's a matter of semantics, puppy. Bottom line: New York pretty, you not."
Jou glared at him. "I look fine."
"Uh-huh."
"Really."
"Sure."
"I mean ... I do, righ'?" Jou turned to Yuugi. "Are my clothes dat bad?"
"Well ... uh ... "Yuugi stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "They're casual, Jou, and New York isn't really a casual place. Especially not with a multibillionaire."
"I look bad?"
"No!" Yuugi said hastily. "You don't look bad, Jou—"
"You're cute, but you need help. Honestly, for a gay man, you dress terribly." Otogi rubbed his hands together with the same sort of joyful glee that Nanashi-san had displayed at the thought of making him "pretty."
And after Nanashi-san had gone psycho on him with makeup ... well, he was terrified of what Otogi might do.
And then came the dreaded words: "Let's go shopping!"
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"You jus' enjoy maxin' out my credit card. Admit it." Jou struggled to balance his bags and packages, while Otogi practically skipped alongside him, carrying only a few light bags.
"Yeah, so? It's not like you're anywhere near the end of your credit, Jou. You may not be as rich as Kaiba, but you're up there with the big boys." Otogi grinned at him. "Besides, think of how surprised he'll be at your new look ... "
It had been a tiring day. Six hours of nonstop shopping and Otogi chattering at him. Jou actually owned makeup. He didn't exactly possess the skills necessary to apply it, but Otogi had assured him that he would learn quickly.
And he had more clothes now that would ever fit in his apartment. Jou lost track of everything he had bought, but he knew that most of it was tight, short, and just plain indecent.
Some of it wasn't bad. Otogi's style seemed to change with his current fling, and he was leaning toward a more Mokuba-esque fashion. He'd bought a few pairs of overly-baggy bondage pants and more fishnet than he'd ever seen on a hooker. And a few overpriced vintage T-shirts of bands he'd listened to as a kid in America; he was wearing an AC/DC shirt now.
Yeah, maybe Otogi was alright. He cast a sidelong glance at the actor. He'd always admired him, always admired his ability to be himself. He'd never made a secret of the fact that he was gay; he didn't give a shit what anyone else thought of him.
Jou guessed that was kind of cool.
Otogi turned, arching a perfectly-groomed eyebrow at him. "What are you staring at?"
Jou laughed. "Nothin', man. Nothin'."
An uneventful chapter, but hey...it's kinda cute, ne?