They went home together that evening. This was unusual, but Mokuba didn't question it, content to watch his brother from the passenger seat. The only sign of Seto's fatigue was the tighter-than-usual grip upon the steering wheel.

Seto didn't seem to want dinner, and Mokuba didn't push it. It was enough that Seto was home. He followed his brother into the bedroom, watching as Seto began to strip from the two-day old suit.

"Why were you and Reiko talking about us?" Seto asked.

"She and Sanshiro broke up," Mokuba heard himself say, mind still stuck on the us. "Last week."

"Huh."

That was probably all he was going to get out of Seto tonight, and Mokuba was glad because he didn't want to deal with some sort of deep talk when Seto had had no sleep. Seto usually had his worst ideas then, no matter how creative Seto thought he was being.

Seto surprised him, however, by adding, "Well, that's not so shocking, really."

"Oh?"

Seto pulled on a pair of loose pants and tied the drawstring cord tight about his waist. Mokuba frowned as he noticed that Seto had lost weight again. Perhaps all the chocolate he had consumed today would help, but somehow, Mokuba thought not.

"Sanshiro's not exactly reliable," Seto elaborated as he made his way into the bathroom.

This was true, but Mokuba had never thought that Seto had paid that much attention to Sanshiro. After all, they had only met twice in passing and both times at Reiko's apartment.

Mokuba ghosted into the bathroom after his brother, watching as Seto began to wash his face. He decided that if they were going to talk about Reiko and Sanshiro, he might as well bring up his own tattered plans for the evening.

"Nisama," he said, "You do know what day it is?"

"Monday," Seto said promptly, his face buried in a towel and somewhat muffled. He then raised his head and quirked his lips at Mokuba's reflection in the mirror. "Of course I know what day it is."

"Well, Reiko wasn't the only one who decided to cook," Mokuba began.

"Oh?"

"I-I made a cake," Mokuba said. "Heart shaped. It's chocolate. And I frosted it and everything, and I put raspberries all over the top." The rest came out in a rush, "And I made chocolates, too, but you're probably sick of chocolates after everything you ate today and –"

Seto shut him up with a kiss. Mokuba froze for a second, his eyes drawn to the picture they made in the mirror, before his eyes closed, and he kissed back. The tightness in Mokuba's chest began to dissolve.

Mokuba had been dreaming of Seto's kisses for years, but those half-remembered fragments could never compete with the solid reality of his brother. His arms went about Seto's neck, mouth parting and mind blocking everything but the warmth of Seto's body and the sweetness of his mouth.

"Let's go eat your cake," Seto said when they had pulled apart, and Mokuba was almost too breathless to say anything in answer.

"And my chocolates" Mokuba managed, one hand running down the length of Seto's arm. Their fingers locked together.

"And your chocolates."

They held hands the entire way to the kitchen.