It's been longer than I would like to admit since I've touched this story. I've been working my way through a major arc in the main "Paved with Good Intentions" story, an arc that's been begging for conclusion for many, many months.

But 2015 is the Year of the AU. This story is the first in a sequence of three stories I have planned for the year. The second, in case you're curious, is a full series based on the "I Was Born This Way" chapters from "Blue Eyes, Violet Eyes," wherein the Kaibas' ages are switched; that is, Mokuba is the elder brother, and Seto is the younger.

The third is a secret.

But all in all, I suppose that's neither here nor there. Just thought I'd mention it here, since . . . well, since I'm excited about these stories, more excited than I ever thought I'd be.

1.

"Stop."

It's like someone took a bolt of lightning and cracked it like a whip. Téa looks so thoroughly flabbergasted that she can't remember what language even is anymore, but she certainly knows what that word means.

Seto looks murderous.

Téa leans back, sits on her heels. Mokuba—who had been giggling fit to wet himself—stops immediately, confused. He rolls around and looks quizzically at his brother. Seto, for his part, closes his eyes. Part of him wonders if he's spent too much time around predators, whether he's forgotten what it's like to be around friends.

But . . . no. No, he remembers what Mother said. He remembers every word his mother ever said.

"He was having fun," Téa says softly. "I wasn't hurting him."

No. No, she wasn't hurting him. She was just tickling him. Mokuba is ridiculously ticklish, and there are so few people who care about that . . . Seto tells himself that he should be lenient. But then something rears up in his mind—something fierce, with long fangs and gleaming eyes and lightning in its jaws—and reminds him.

"He said no," Seto says. "He said stop. You stop."

"He was just kidding," Téa protests, but weakly.

"I don't care," Seto snaps, and Téa flinches. Seto remembers what Mother said. He says it now: "He has to know that what he says matters. He has to know that he's in charge of his own body. So when he says stop, you stop. If he's kidding, he'll let you know. But you wait until he does."

Missus Mutou, who's sitting on the couch reading a newspaper, looks up and stares at the three of them. She has a sharp, searching look on her face. She leans back and raises an eyebrow. Then she smiles. When Téa glances over at her, Missus Mutou puts up a hand and says, "Don't look at me. You heard him."

Téa sits back, rests her hands on her knees, and looks at Mokuba. Mokuba, for his part, promptly clambers into her lap and settles there. He likes Téa, and he clearly doesn't understand why Nii'tama put on his angry face. He makes it quite clear—through incomprehensible gestures and incoherent babbling—that the tickle game should continue. Téa eyes Seto to see if he's going to get serious again, but Seto simply shrugs.

If he's kidding, he'll let you know.

Missus Mutou waits a while longer, watching Seto watch Téa play with Mokuba, then she gets up. "How would you kids like to help me make dinner?" she asks. Then she blinks. "Which is code language for, 'You're going to help me make dinner, but I want to be polite.'"

"When is Yugi getting back?" Téa asks, as she sets Mokuba down and stands up.

"At this rate, just in time to do the dishes," Missus Mutou says, then winks. "The golden rule with my father is, whatever time he tells you he'll be home . . . add forty-five minutes."

Seto stands up as well, realizing with a sudden jolt that he's spent the entire afternoon at someone else's home, even though that someone isn't here. Clearly this doesn't bother Téa, so apparently it isn't uncommon for Yugi to join his grandfather on random adventures, but the idea is thoroughly foreign to Seto.

Then again, it's not like Seto ever had friends to invite to his house.

Mom would have liked Yugi, Seto thinks suddenly, and his eyes start burning.

Mokuba grabs his brother's hand, and says "Nii'tama good cook." He says it like he's informing the plebeian masses that the emperor is a gifted sportsman. He swings Seto's hand around as he follows the others into the kitchen, and Seto notices with some amount of shock that Missus Mutou doesn't order the excitable toddler back into the living room.

"I'm sure Niisama knows his way around a kitchen," Missus Mutou says, "but so do I. And in this kitchen, everyone pitches in at mealtime. So!" She grabs a stool and pulls it over to the sink. Then she grabs a colander from a cupboard, and heads over to the refrigerator. "Mokuba? Your job is to wash the vegetables. Seto, you'll be peeling potatoes right over here," she gestures, "so you can be right next to him in case he needs help." She looks sharply at Téa. "You know the drill, young lady."

Téa doesn't even bother to ask what dish they're making. She snaps to attention and heads right over to the spice cabinet, where she starts gathering a bunch of tiny canisters and bottles.

Seto helps his brother get situated, and doesn't realize that he's smiling.

2.

"I'm . . . not even going to guess how you figured this out" is the only thing Dan finds himself able to say, as he stares at the spread of gifts Pegasus Crawford has gathered for the sake of Seto Yagami's "Hobbit-Style" tenth birthday. He ticks off each offering as he walks along the table. "Glen will love this exercise ball for his mouse. David's always had a thing for basketball. Ellie adores classic rock. How . . . how did you do this?"

Pegasus winks. "I'm a quick study. Finding out what people like without letting them realize what I'm doing is . . . well, let's just say that it's the crux of my job. I've always found it particularly important to know what children like."

"Well, yeah," Dan says, "you run a toy company. That stands to reason. Okay, so this pretty much covers the others. What about Seto himself?"

Pegasus winks a second time. "I'll go ahead and keep that one a surprise, if you don't mind."

". . . Did you interview all of the kids?" Dan asks.

Not nearly as thoroughly as his knowledge would indicate, but . . .

"I did."

"Well," Dan says, laughing, "I guess you are taking this whole thing seriously. I have to admit, I was concerned at first. I mean, we're kind of an archaic institution here. Orphanages aren't exactly in vogue, you know? And we don't exactly operate the same way that your more modern foster homes—well. Anyway. Thank you for accommodating us." Dan smirks. "Though I suppose there's no questioning who it is you're after."

Pegasus shrugs. "I hate to play favorites, but . . . I'd like to think that we've hit it off, so to speak."

Dan shrugs in turn. "It's not like it's a bad thing, really. If we didn't take personal choice into the equation, well . . . I'm pretty sure nobody around here would get adopted." He waits a moment, then sighs. "I'll be honest with you, sir. We don't get all that many adoptions that go all the way to the end. A lot of them back out, once they realize how involved the process really is. A lot of folks who come here, they think it's as simple as picking up the cutest one, changing their name, and driving away with them."

Pegasus chuckles. "Mm. True enough. Well, hopefully this is the beginning of a fruitful partnership between you and me."

"I'm only acting director," Dan reminds him. "I don't want this job, to be honest. I'd much rather get my hands dirty, as the proverb has it. I'm no bureaucrat. But, for now . . . yes."

He holds out a hand, which Pegasus shakes.

"A partnership."

3.

"How come you didn't tell us your birthday was coming up?"

Seto freezes, his eyes go wider than the plate in front of him, and his fork clatters to the table. He looks at Yugi like the older boy has just said something supremely offensive, and he might just fling himself away from the table to find a weapon.

"I . . . w-what?"

"Your birthday!" Yugi repeats obliviously. "It's next week, isn't it? How come you didn't say anything? I can come to your party, right? Right?"

Mokuba knows what the word party means, and gets excited. "Party?" he asks, eyes sparkling. "Nii'tama! Party?!"

". . . I . . . m-maybe . . . Mokie, I don't . . ."

Missus Mutou sets her own utensils down and draws in a breath. "Seto," she says, quietly but no less firmly than how she says anything. Even Sugoroku, who pretty much seems just as excitable and . . . frivolous as his grandson, straightens up.

Seto looks at her. "Y-Yes . . . ?"

"If you're uncomfortable about the idea, then you should definitely say something to your social workers." He notes the way she calls them his, and wonders what she's talking about; nobody working at the Children's Home is his. "They're apparently . . . worried about you. I have to guess that Mister Elliot or Miss Hathaway had to do with this. They must have mentioned to Mister Crawford that your birthday was coming up. He was the one who told us."

A jolt of something indescribable shoots through Seto's brain and nestles deep in his spine. "He . . . what?!"

"He wants to make sure you have a proper birthday party," Missus Mutou says. "He says you've never had one. At least, not to his standards. But it's your decision, and don't ever let anyone else try to tell you otherwise."

"Ah—but . . . why would he do that . . . ?"

"If I had to guess . . . he wants to take care of you." Missus Mutou's face is suddenly gentle. "That is, after all, why he's going through the adoption process in the first place. He hasn't taken nearly as much interest in any of the other children as he has you and your brother. I don't think there's any reason to deny it anymore."

Sugoroku, still silent, continues eating. He watches Seto, then Yugi, then Téa, then Mokuba, then back to Seto. That man's eyes are always moving. The Mutou patriarch looks jovial and jolly, like a blue-collar Santa Claus, but he's sharper than anyone Seto has ever met.

Except, perhaps, Pegasus Crawford.

"Awww . . . are you not having a party?" Yugi asks. "I already picked out your present!"

Seto blinks again. Stares. "You . . . you got me . . . ?"

"Sure!" Yugi looks suddenly confused. "That's what friends do!" He looks at Téa for confirmation.

Téa, who is sitting on Seto's side of the table, elbows him playfully. "Have the party, Seto. I don't think Yugi could handle it being canceled. Neither could Mister Crawford, prob'ly."

"Party!" Mokuba trumpets.

Seto knows when he's been defeated. He looks around at the people sitting with him, all looking at him with varying degrees of hopefulness on their faces, and heaves a sigh. He thinks he could handle Yugi's dismay, maybe even Mister Crawford's.

But Seto Yagami has never been able to handle disappointing his baby brother.

". . . I-I guess I should thank Mister Crawford," Seto mumbles quietly. "That was very thoughtful of him." Yet again, he's parroting his mother. They aren't his words. But the looks on Yugi's, Téa's, and Missus Mutou's faces . . . they send a bloom of warmth through him, and Seto realizes something he should have known a long time ago.

There's a reason his mother told him all those things.

He's been ignoring everything his parents taught him . . . for years.

Sugoroku breaks through Seto's melancholy by calling out: "All right, then! That's settled!" He reaches down to his plate, scarfs down a dinner roll, then points at Mokuba. "You!" Mokuba squeaks. "Time for you to pick out a present for your brother. Come along, young one. We're going to the main floor!"

Missus Mutou rolls her eyes. "Of course. Everything is an opportunity for business, right, Dad?"

"Exactly!"

"Present?" Mokuba blinks. "For Nii'tama?"

"Exactly!" Sugoroku crows again. He leans toward the boy with a conspiratorial look in his eye. "For the party."

This catches Mokuba's attention, reignites his excitement, and he starts fumbling his way out of his booster seat to follow Sugoroku down the stairs.

"Mokuba," Seto calls out, and Mokuba freezes. "Be careful. Don't break anything."

"'Kay!"

Seto starts to eat again, wondering what he's supposed to feel right now.

Téa leans close to him and whispers: "It's okay. You're allowed to be happy."

For some reason, Seto's eyes start burning again. When he excuses himself and heads down the hall into the restroom, he's only a little surprised to see streaks of wetness running down his face, when he looks at himself in the mirror.