A/N: YOUR REVIEWS GIVE ME LIFE. Special thanks to Port Rocks for suggesting Mai pop into this chapter for a little hello. As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated….it can be hard to hit the right notes in the romance & humor genres.
This chapter breaks the scales at ~3,500 words.
Disclaimer: Rated T for "Teen", not "Totally Everyone." Sensual themes and mild alcohol consumption. Back away, kiddos.
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Ch. 4- In which Yami gets what's coming to him…and then some
"You're a bigger idiot than Wheeler."
Teá turned on her heel, clutching a cup of hot cider between her fingers, and narrowed her eyes at Mai Valentine. "Now that's just cruel," she replied.
The stunning woman flipped a swathe of blonde hair over her shoulder, adjusted the scarf around her neck. "You mosey on over in the middle my shopping for love advice, and I'm giving it. I'll say it again: You're a bigger idiot than Wheeler."
So much for women supporting women, thought Teá. She bit the inside of her cheek. She really needed help—what with the pharaoh's recent penchant for making her lose her mind—and who better to ask than the number one man-eater she knew? So instead of saying something dismissive and rude, Teá said, "And how's that?"
Mai tilted her head forward, allowed the steam from her own cider to warm her face. "You told me your story. You challenged the pharaoh to the game, but you've yet to play any of your cards. That's why you're the idiot. You can't expect to win if you don't play."
Teá fiddled with her cup's sleeve. At either side of her, a multitude of shoppers ambled by, touting their wares in branded plastic and paper bags. "That's the thing. I don't think I have any cards."
"A woman always has cards, Teá. Even a woman like you."
"I really don't-"
"You've been drooling over him for years. Something gave you the guts to challenge him to this ridiculous Game of Love charade." The blonde stabbed a manicured nail into Teá's shoulder, and she winced. "Something happened. A turning point. A catalyst. An inciting incident."
"I mean…." Teá thought back, face scrunching in concentration. "He…he did turn quite red at the tournie." Her own face flushed in pleasure at the memory, and she let out a short laugh. "My hand was hardly even touching him-"
"Great! So do that…" Mai's voice quieted. "…and then throw in a compliment."
"A…A compliment?"
Mai nodded. "A real heavy-handed one. But it needs the touch of sincerity, or it won't work."
It sounded…plausible. Work, thought Teá. How would she know if it worked?
"But how will I know if-"
Mai thrust a finger into the air between them, and Teá's eyes crossed looking at it. "If you don't know, then you shouldn't be playing. Good luck." She walked away, her heels clicking above the hustle and bustle of the outdoor shopping mall. "It sounds like you're gonna need it."
Despite herself, Teá smiled at Mai's back.
Luck won't have anything to do with it.
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After her brief but enlightening encounter with Mai, Teá's determination broiled like something physical inside her gut. Tired of waiting and wishing and wanting, she shifted her cards out of their defense positions, one by one, until she was primed and ready to attack.
Working off a hunch courtesy of Mai—a certain stadium bench came to mind, a certain precarious pinky—she implemented phase one of Operation: Get Handsy.
Her opportunity came quicker than she expected, but also just in time. As was typical in her circle of friends, she found herself alongside the pharaoh in a duel—except this time, she dueled with him instead of rooting for him on the sidelines.
Unlike usual, this duel was old-school, which meant she sat beside the pharaoh at an actual table. On the opposite side of said table sat their opponents—a good-looking but obnoxious couple hailing from Southern Georgia—Duel Monsters cards laid out in front of them, pads of paper and a pen (what was this—the dark ages?) to keep track of score.
The duel was difficult, and not just because of all the fast mental math. Teá was proud of more than one of her moves, but—unsurprisingly—Yami dealt the finishing blow, unveiling his trap card Stronghold of the Moving Fortress with a flourish. They had won.
The couple wailed in typical villainous fashion. My word! How could we lose? It's impossible! as Teá, fighting cardiac arrest, steeled herself and reached for the pharaoh's hand beneath the table.
Threading her fingers through his until their palms touched, she blurted in (not-quite) a whisper, her voice dripping earnestness, before she could think better of it, "Wow, pharaoh. You truly are the King of Games."
To Teá's growing fascination, the red in the pharaoh's face bloomed like a rose right to the tips of his ears. Red, red, red. So red, the Southern woman grumbled, "We lost to an innocent. His girlfriend still makes 'im rosy 'bout the cheeks."
The pharaoh didn't—couldn't—reply, and forgetting the imposing and kingly figure hidden beneath his all-encompassing blush, Teá planted a protracted, congratulatory kiss to his cheek, parting only when she could feel his flush grow hot against her lips.
A red-faced Yami grew redder, and Teá glowed in delight well into the celebratory dinner afterwards.
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Phase two of Operation Handsy set out only to confirm what Teá already knew. She threaded her hand through Yami's as they walked with the group, just for a brief moment, just until she saw the flush darken in his cheeks, biting back a laugh as she let go. She cupped his hands in both of hers in congratulations for a duel won, releasing him when he stuttered a red-faced thank-you. She eased her fingers over his during the Egyptian documentary at the local theatre, watched him squirm, only to lean over and whisper something mundane in his ear before letting go. Would you like some popcorn, Yami?
One could argue that all these things were done casually enough, though the effect of every one of her mini-experiments was more or less the same. Yami Yugi, Multi-Tournament Duel Monsters Champion, King of Games, and former Pharaoh of Egypt, blushed like a schoolgirl.
Teá wasn't greedy— this secret knowledge was exhilarating in and of itself—but after that duel with the Southern couple she needed to know how far she could take this newfound information like a parched traveler needed water in the Sahara.
She was emboldened. Somewhere, somehow, she began to regale him with little royal compliments.
"My king," breathed Teá, touching the back of his hand following another challenging duel. "Where do you learn these stratagems?"
Or, skimming her fingers across his palm: "Your majesty, have you always looked so good doing that…or is it just the new outfit?"
Even as she grasped his hand solemnly: "Pharaoh?" she sighed, a little too convincingly. "More like phar-whoah."
But even Teá felt the need to blame the hotel stairwell incident on a few too many drinks at the bar, despite the fact that she (…confidentially) had only half her bottle of happoshu before Serenity dragged her away by the arm. The teenager hiccupped and giggled, gamboling up the back stairwell towards her room on the 5th floor and towing Teá along behind her.
"…and then Duke tries to add me on SnapChat, right under Tristan's nose!" Serenity rolled her eyes, an amused smile curving her lips, and finished with simply, "Boys."
Teá laughed, stumbling up the steps, and decided that Serenity's pink-tinged face was the result of something a little more than alcohol. Duke and Tristan were both good-looking, decent guys. At her age, she'd be preening at the attention too.
"Boys," said Teá with her own eye roll, shooting her friend a companionable grin. It wasn't often she and her friends travelled outside the city for tournaments, and even less often that they had a good time beforehand. Tonight was a great night.
The pair ascended another flight. "Speaking of…" said Serenity. Her fingers tapped at where she held Teá's arm. "You and the pharaoh -?"
"Yes?" said a deep voice. The girls let out shrill squeals, clutching at each other, and turned back to find Yami opening the stairwell door from the floor below. He looked up at them with amethyst eyes wide, holding Duel Monsters cards in his hands.
For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Teá locked eyes with him before his stare darted away.
"Yami! Joining the festivities?" said Serenity.
Yami gave a brief shake of the head. "No, Serenity. I am preparing for tomorrow's duel with Kaiba." A pause. "Thank you for the offer."
"Of course, of course," said Serenity, her former boisterous tones quieting. Yami, Teá noticed, often had that effect on people. With just a few words, others seemed to instinctively know that he was a king, and adjusted their behavior accordingly.
Well. Most others. The stairwell door crashed inwards with an echoing bang, and Joey barreled through, his roaming eyes zeroing in on his sister. "What's this about Duke's SnapChat, huh?!"
"None of your business, that's what," said Serenity primly. She released Teá, gave her a pat on the arm. "I'll catch you later, Teá. I need to talk boundaries with my brother." Without breaking stride, Serenity shot Teá a knowing wink, bounded down the stairs, grabbed her brother by the ear, and slammed the door behind them, Joey's protestations fading into nothing.
And they were alone.
As the echoes died, Yami cleared his throat. "Hello, Teá."
"Pharaoh," said Teá, and she allowed herself to say it with warmth, like she was thrilled that he was there. And she was, truthfully. His unexpected presence made her good mood 'gooder'—or was that the happoshu talking?
The pharaoh's shoulders stiffened, his face coloring as his long fingers shifted his cards. Teá wanted to kiss him.
Yup, definitely the happoshu.
He took a cautious step up towards the stair where Teá stood, clutching at the handrail at her opposite side. "I am headed towards the roof. I find I think better under the stars." He paused here—it wasn't a self-conscious pause, but it wasn't a self-confident pause either. It was the pause of consideration, of the weighing of pros and cons, the pause of a ruler with a decision to make. He spoke: "You…you may join me if you'd like, Teá."
A smile split across her face, and Yami tottered back as if struck by it. But Teá couldn't help it; her smile reached her eyes, her heart, because the King of Games had weighed the pros and cons of inviting her out on the roof with him, and in the end—despite the rosiness of his cheeks at her mere mention of his name, despite the distraction she promised from his precious dueling prep time—she, Teá Gardner, amateur dancer and girl-next-door, came out on top.
It was enough of an ego-boost (and if you pressed her, she'd blame the happoshu) to make Teá stride over to him on the stairwell and grasp his hands, his Duel Monsters cards twisting like fallen leaves to floor. He gaped up at her from the step below. "You are a good, good king," said Teá. She trapped him in her stare, slipped one of her hands between his, and splayed out his palm against hers before easing her fingers through his own.
Teá brought his pinky to her lips, and imagined a signet ring there. "Your majesty," she murmured against his skin.
"T-Teá…" stammered the pharaoh.
"Yes, your excellence?" She flipped his hand over with care. He shuddered as her mouth explored the lines of his palm, the joints in between, each finger in their turn. Another shudder coursed through him and curiosity piqued, she chanced a glance up.
The pharaoh's pupils were so blown she could hardly see his purple irises; a deep red meandered from his ears down to his shoulders; from his lips his breath came in short, shallow pants. Did people dare touch him when he was pharaoh…even his hands?
Looking at him through her lashes, Teá placed a sweet kiss to the heel of his hand and murmured, "My pharaoh,"giving the sensitive flesh an experimental touch of the tongue.
Yami wheezed and moaned at once. A hand shot to his mouth, expression horrified and deliciously crimson, his teeth snapping shut with the hurried effort of swallowing back that sound from where it came from.
But she….she needed to hear that noise again. Locking eyes with him, she smiled, and wetted the same spot near his wrist.
Another groan, and his hands fell from hers, pushed down at her sides. Tea fell back to sit on the step with an, "Oh!" and Yami dragged her closer to him by the underside of her knees, and when that wasn't close enough, by the loops of her jeans. Teá's surprised gasp drew another keen out of him, and his stare was hungry, and he was so close, and he was leaning in towards her face.
And as much as she wanted to kiss him, that hunger in the pharaoh's eyes was actually really kind of terrifying. She would not pass out again. She must regain control of this situation, posthaste.
She put up her hands to his chest, stymieing his advance. "G-G-Ground rules!" she sputtered.
The pharaoh paused, breath coming in short and fast, his hands gripping at her hips. He blinked up at her, as if released from a spell. "…Pardon?"
Her pulse rattled her teeth. "G-Ground rules. We need some. I can't continue on like this."
His face fell, and he began to lean away. "Teá, I…apologize. It was not my intention to-"
"No, Yami, listen." Teá licked her lips. "You're fine. More than fine." She looked up at him, eyes scanning over the musculature of his arms and chest, the handsome lines of his face, the slant of his mouth. This new and exciting angle was doing marvels for him. Her heart lurched. "Too fine. Sorry. It's just…these past few months…."She expelled a shaky breath of air, and looked to him again. "You've been driving me absolutely crazy."
His elegant brows furrowed; his finger tapped against her hip. "And this is an…issue for you?"
Teá gulped, nodding and shrugging all at once, not trusting herself to speak.
Another tap. "You haven't been...the most behaved recently...but very well," he said, mulling over the words. "What 'ground rules' would you like established?"
Teá reeled with the vague but indisputable notion that any rule she suggested was just that: a suggestion that the pharaoh would or would not approve. Which was ridiculous. But it didn't make it any less true.
"First rule," said Teá. She really tried to make it sound like a statement and not a question. "Waist up only."
Yami looked down to where his fingers curved into her hips, his expression unreadable. "Next rule," he said, and it didn't escape her that he neither confirmed nor denied the first's validity. His hands stayed where they were.
She swallowed. "Next rule," she repeated, looking at the floor now. "Whoever gives a real kiss to their opponent first…loses."
The pharaoh's hands flexed where they met her. Finally, surprisingly, he nodded. "And this will make you more…comfortable."
Comfortable, he says.
"Well, I mean." How to tell her crush of so many years that she was trying to avoid literally passing out in his arms again? "It'll…make the game more interesting, too, now that we know there's a way to win."
Yami leveled his stare at her, eyes half-hooded. "There was always a way to win, Teá." His hands ran up her sides, and she bit her lip. "Even so…"He tucked his head near hers, pressing his lips tenderly to her cheek. "So this, then…alright?"
Teá's heart gave an enthusiastic leap at the contact. "An…an acceptable play, yes," she said.
His mouth trailed up her cheek, finding her temple. "And this…?" he crooned.
"St-still acceptable," she replied.
He kissed her, slowly, down to one eyelid, then across to the other, and looked at her, his expression bordering on reverent. "And this?"
Did he want her to pass out again?
Teá twined her arms around his neck. "Pharaoh," she sighed.
Breath hitching, he brought her in closer until their middles met, until his breath was hot and intermingling with hers. She could practically taste his lips on her own, but he stopped, a slightly pained expression crossing over his face. "How does one define a 'real kiss'?" he muttered.
She attempted to bat the stars out of her eyes. "I-I'm sorry?"
Yami allowed himself to groan in frustration, pressing his forehead to hers, and inhaled. "Your rules, Teá."
She might've been annoyed if her mind had been clearer. His lips scant centimeters from hers, and he was worried about losing. But perhaps with the King of Games, it came with the territory.
Teá swallowed. She smelled the spice from his skin and hair and breath and—what was a real kiss, exactly? "Er….a real kiss has to….has to be on the lips. No pecks. Longer than five seconds. Hot. I mean, not a kiss from your grandma. I mean-"
"Indeed." Yami let his velveteen voice drawl, and Teá's babble caught in her throat.
He cradled her chin. "So by your own five second rule, this…" He trailed his lips over hers. "…is not a 'real kiss'?"
Teá's somersaulting stomach certainly told her it counted. ""I-I don't…"
He pressed his lips to hers, soft and sweet and for decidedly under five seconds. "Hmm," said Yami. "I think these rules are very workable." Without warning, he pressed his lips to hers again, and Teá let out a gasp as he licked his lips, parting hers along their seam.
"Y-You're incorrigible," she groaned, lower lip wobbling.
"…and still well within your rules," said Yami. His lips found her ear. "Please feel at liberty to lose at any given time."
"…Don't make me kiss your hand again, my king," gasped Teá.
He smiled against her. "Now who is incorrigible?" he rumbled, his hands roaming up her sides.
And then he was at her mouth again, this time with a fury, dragging his teeth against her bottom lip, licking into her mouth, running his tongue along its rim. Again and again he did this in brief five-second successions, his actions teasing and a little bit sadistic and stoking Teá higher and higher until she groaned into this mouth with the realization that he tasted as good as he smelled.
To hell with losing. She needed that hot mouth to stay the damn course or she would implode. She wound her fingers into his hair, urging him closer until their teeth clicked, deepening the next kiss for a sweet, breathtaking moment.
An echo on the stairwell above, surprising them into parting. A jolly humming grew louder and louder, footfalls descending the steps.
Catching eyes for a brief moment of understanding, Teá reluctantly unwound her fingers from the pharaoh's hair; he removed his hands from the back of her blouse, the side of her neck. They stood up, placing a more platonic distance between them, making casual.
The humming grew louder. Teá smoothed her blouse. Yami pulled at the sleeves of his jacket, but it didn't do much good for him. His hair—already the definition of crazy—was wild. His jacket lay askew at the collar, his face pricked with dark, charming pink, his lips even darker-
Yami caught her gaze, gave her a suggestive once over, and grinned. From that look alone, Teá hedged a sizable bet that she fared even worse than he did.
Bakura came into view on the stairwell above, took one look at them, and said, "Well, if you two don't look guilty-" before tripping over his own feet down the steps, promptly twisting his ankle.
Welp. That was the end of that.
Draping Bakura's arm across her shoulders, Teá turned to the pharaoh and tried for nonchalant. "Go on, Yami. I'll get him patched up. You have duel to prepare for." Without waiting for him to answer, Teá speed-hobbled with Bakura out of the stairwell and out into the nearest hallway, making for the elevator.
Her white-haired friend smelled vaguely of cheap wine. "…So you two were snogging, right?"
"Don't make me find that Ring, Bakura."