Holidays are fun. Happy holidays.

And here's the next chapter. As usual, explanations of how the characters got in this mess unfold slowly. And it gets serious later in the chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, its Abridged Series, Moulin Rouge, or any of the songs parodied. And I certainly don't own Disney.

(1) To the tune of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" from Lion King. This number doesn't correspond to any of the songs in Moulin Rouge.

-O-o-O-o-O-

Over the next month, hundreds of chairs were dragged onto the dance floor of the HeighHoGoodBi Black Dragon Palace. "With the new money, we can keep these instead of just renting," Bakura explained to the rest of the crew.

They did make a few other changes, one of which was removing that disco ball and painting the doors that had been formerly covered with tin foil. The place was starting to look halfway respectable. The dragons, windmills, and flamingos stayed. They had to keep something for the regulars.

Rehearsals had to start immediately. It was a bit of a challenge to run lines when the noise of hundreds of chairs across the floor and power tools filled the hall. Bakura told everyone it'd teach them to project, since the budget didn't allow for microphones.

They were still doing their usual shows, in addition to this new show. Most of the regulars didn't mind the changes. Others were beginning to wonder about this new line dance called "move all the chairs, then put them back when it's over." Do-si-doing while swinging a folding chair was challenging for everyone.

They'd been rehearsing for a few weeks when Duke decided to drop in for a visit.

Bakura cringed inwardly when he saw Duke walking toward him. "So these are the wonderful changes you were talking about." He looked around. "Those folding chairs really give it a down-homey sort of feel, don't you think?"

"Most of the money went to building sets and props, which will be reused, and costumes…"

"Which won't be reused, I hope." Duke snickered. "That's a good way to spread some nasty diseases.

"We have our own laundry fund," Bakura retorted weakly. Duke didn't seem to be listening. Kaiba turned around and caught Bakura's eye. He gave him a look that said he'd heard the whole exchange and would gladly "accidentally" high-kick Duke in the face.

Duke turned his attention to a man with a neon pink bob and Egyptian-looking headband walking toward him. He jumped-he almost didn't recognize Joey in his wig.

"Hey, Dukey!" He waved over two stagehands moving a fake sarcophagus with an arm hanging out. Duke cringed. He didn't like Joey's little nickname for him, but compromises must be made in the name of love.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you on our date tonight."

Joey's face fell a little. "About dat…Kaiba's really goin' hard on us wit' da rehearsals, and since he learned how to high-kick, I really don't wanna piss him off."

Bakura stepped in. "Then maybe I can arrange something. Maybe Tristan could go along with you to run lines periodically?"

Duke shifted. "That's not exactly romantic."

"Romance is dead." Kaiba charged past.

"Says you, Moneybags," Joey said, but not too loud. He turned back to Bakura. "Dat could work." He turned to Duke, his eyes resembling a young canine.

Duke relented. "Okay. But Tristan pays his own way." He wagged his finger.

"Yay!" Joey cheered, throwing his arms up. Duke paused.

"Because Kaiba won't kick me into da rafters!" Joey continued, his arms still in the air.

"Oh." Duke smiled, relieved.

After the rehearsal, they went to Pizza Shack, the classiest joint in Domino (after the fall, anyway).

The waiter led the three of them to a table at the back. Noah had been given the night off. Duke had given him the option of coming along, but the minute Noah heard "Pizza Shack," he developed the sudden need to polish his brother's old duel disks. Duke never could understand why anyone bothered with things like that anymore. Nobody dueled and probably nobody was going to again. But it wasn't his business what the peasants did with their time.

"Since you were kind enough to tip, we reserved this most special table for you." They noticed that nearly all the windows in the place were broken. The one next to their table, however, was not. Also, theirs was one of the few tables from which no condiment packets had been swiped.

The waiters took their orders after they sat down. The place was like the Duelpark lately; nearly empty and anything that looked remotely valuable (shiny objects, electronic items, bits of the roof) had long since been sold for crack. Colorful flyers brightened the wall, lighting up the men's faces (or was that the work of the old rusted car with miraculously functional headlights? Or the flames from the nearby garbage can?). One of the pieces of paper was a poster for "Awesome Flotsam."

"Huh. Cozy," Joey commented as they huddled into the tiny booth. A few cockroaches ducked back into the slashes in the seat to avoid being squashed. Duke slid over to make room so Joey wouldn't be squashed in the middle. However, Joey must not have noticed because he stayed right where he was, which was rather close to Tristan.

"Good. We won't have to shout across the table," Tristan said. Duke smiled tightly.

The night went on in a relatively normal way. Except for the closeness of Tristan and Joey's bodies increasing. And the fact that the waiter brought a drink with two straws, which Joey and Tristan drained almost instantly.

One might think they were dating or something.

During the date, they ran lines and discussed the play, which was all about dueling. Duke just couldn't get into the conversation-not that Joey and Tristan noticed his inattentiveness. Dueling was inconsequential now; couldn't they see? What was the use of living in the past, especially a past ruled by card games? Didn't they see that dice games were the way to go?

Other than the dueling obsession, Tristan seemed like a nice young man. He was a little preoccupied with Joey, but otherwise, he was decent company. He did wish he could spend more alone time with Joey, though. They agreed to meet the next night for dinner at the Duke's apartment, but they soon had to cancel because, "Kaiba's breakin' my balls—no, not literally. Not yet." They decided to try to set something up for the next night.

Or the next night after that.

Or the one after that.

Duke was beginning to wonder if Joey was trying to avoid him.

He decided to talk to Bakura about it at the theater the next day. He couldn't very well woo Joey over dinner if he never showed up to eat (which surprised Duke greatly, from what he knew about the guy's appetite).

"I couldn't help noticing that Joey seems reluctant to meet with me," Duke told him.

"Well, he really likes this show. It's all about dueling." Bakura seemed to drift off for a few seconds. "Nostalgia's always fun, for a while."

"That's nice, but what about our contract? I don't mean to mix business with pleasure but—"

Kaiba popped up behind them like a daisy—or a weed. "But what, Dear Duke?"

"But shouldn't you fulfill your end of the deal and let me see Joey at least a couple times a week?"

"Duke, have you ever had to plan a whole event in less than a few months?"

"Can't say I have."

"Have you ever tried to plan an event with music and lines to memorize and movement in less than five?"

"Definitely not."

"Have you ever even tried to organize a tournament in less than a few weeks?"

"I suppose not."

"Then haven't you ever heard of closing your gosh-darned mouth?" Kaiba made that face he always did when he won a duel, or even just a particularly intense argument.

Duke looked so defeated, Bakura took pity on him. "Well, maybe we could arrange for you to watch the rehearsals."

Duke was nearly hit by Kaiba's blue eyes—not the dragons, but the ones that almost popped out of his head. "WHAT. NO. We can't have an audience; it'll distract everyone."

"He'll be very quiet, won't you, Duke?" Bakura asked. Duke nodded obediently.

Kaiba sighed very heavily. "Fine. Whatever." He dashed back over to the stage and poked his finger into a faux-tile bathtub. "Yami, wake up."

Yami snorted, then snapped up from the bathtub into which he'd passed out.

After Yami woke up, the rehearsal went off without a hitch, except for the tiny fact that Yugi kept forgetting one of the most important lines in the last scene. At least by the time opening night rolled around, they'd be well rehearsed.

"How do you remember a half page monologue but not remember the most simple line written?" Kaiba was at the point of tearing out his hair-or maybe Yugi's, what with it being easier to get hold of and probably more satisfying to pull.

Yugi shrugged. "Memory is a funny thing."

Kaiba sighed. "All right. I think we've had enough of this for today."

The players dropped character and stretched, exhausted from all the movement. Joey hopped off the stage and sat backwards on a chair in front of Tristan. "Hey."

Tristan beamed up at him from his script. "You were really great up there, man."

"Thanks." Joey may have acted well, but his joy at the compliment was like a neon sign on his face. "Couldn't-a done it without your most excellent writin'."

A dark shadow passed over the pair. A dark, highly perfumed shadow with an equally dark ponytail. "Hey, Joey." His voice exuded interest. "Oh, and Tristan."

"Dukey…" Joey nuzzled up to Duke, much to Tristan's distaste. While Duke had his eyes closed, savoring the contact, Joey gave Tristan a look that said, "My mouth says 'Dukey,' but my heart says 'Tristan.'" Tristan relaxed in time for Duke to open his eyes and thus the façade was maintained.

Duke pulled away, sooner than he usually did. "I'm sure we'll get plenty of that on our date tonight."

"Well," Tristan piped up, "we did sort of need to work on the 'Will the penniless duelist win a duel against the courtesan' scene. But it's not that important, we could always work on it tomorrow."

"No way, Tristan! Dat's one o' da most important scenes in da play. We hafta work on it tonight!"

"Are you sure?" Duke said. "I'm pretty sure I heard Kaiba shooing everyone off for the night."

"We'd be practicing at Yugi's, but I'm sure you want him on your date," Tristan said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"No, it's fine. Work on your scene. I can deal with it," Duke forced a smile. "Really."

"I really wanna see you tonight." Joey played with Duke's ponytail. "But we hafta make sure your money's going to a great show. Maybe next time?"

Duke nodded. Joey waved and skipped off to the dressing rooms to change. Duke looked at Tristan.

Tristan gave a sheepish half smile. "Sorry about that. G'night." He waved and scampered off to the backstage area as if an African elephant were chasing him while he wore pants made of corn.

-O-o-O-

Duke might have been oblivious to Joey's true interests, but the rest of the players were not.

Everyone began packing up to leave for the night. Duke had kissed Joey and gone back to his apartment, but Noah stayed. "You are to tell me everything that happens after I leave," Duke had instructed him in secret. Noah lingered as long as possible, not to observe more, but to put off having to see his boss.

Joey and Tristan canoodled in a cozy corner behind a giant Styrofoam pyramid. Nobody paid much attention; either because they didn't care or (in Noah's case) so they could say they didn't see anything, should Duke ask them.

Bakura was in the office, closing up. Kaiba sat with Mai and Téa on the balcony. The three had been discussing the choreography during the opening scene when Kaiba caught sight of Joey and Tristan. His pupils shrank to a pinpoint, then he ran to the edge of the balcony, looking everywhere for Duke. He relaxed noticeably when he didn't see him anywhere.

"What's gotten into you?" Téa asked.

Kaiba spun to face her, singing:

"Don't you even notice?"

"What?" Téa asked.

"Our deal could be screwed!" Kaiba clutched the railing.

"What's happening?"

Mai cut in. "They're both in love and if you can't see that, there's something wrong with you!"

"Hey!"

Kaiba continued:

"They'd better hide their flirting,

And stay on the DL.

'Cause if Duke learns about their romance,

This club'll go to hell!" Kaiba sank onto a nearby couch.

Téa's eyes widened as she realized what Kaiba was saying. "You don't mean…"

Mai gave a start. "He couldn't…"

Kaiba dragged his head up. "Sadly, he could."

Mai joined Kaiba in singing:

"Can't they hide their love tonight?

We need the secrecy.

The Duke is blind, but it's too obvious

To the eyes of you and me."

Tristan and Joey had parted. Tristan sat, watching Joey walk back to the dressing rooms. He sang:

"His voice makes me surrender

To his sexy ways.

And when I look into his chocolate eyes

I love him more each day!"

Joeys stood at his locker, singing:

"I'm holdin' back my feelings,

So maybe it won't show,

Dat I can't get enough of Tristan

To him, I can't say no!"

Tristan exited the club and Joey left the dressing rooms. Everyone sang them off, twirling like extras in a Disney movie:

"Can't you hide your love tonight?

Maintain the secrecy.

The Duke is blind, but it's too obvious

To the eyes of you and me."

The Black Dragon players swirled into a line and, kicking their legs up like Rockettes, continued:

"Can't you hide your love tonight?

It's spreading fast like SARS.

Hiding in the Duke's oblivion,

It's sure to go far."

Téa sat on the couch on the balcony, looking down at the dancers who were scattering and probably wondering where they got the strength to do that last dance routine of the day. She sang, "What if Duke saw their love tonight?"

Kaiba shuddered, singing:

"Then we can't avoid.

Like the rules, the Black Dragon is screwed.

In short, we'll be destroyed." (1)

Téa and Mai were silent for once.

"Damn dirty Duke." Kaiba swore.

-O-o-O-

Mokuba was on the couch, flicking through a pulp novel when the door to their apartment opened.

"Where's Noah?" he asked while Kaiba hung up his trench coat. Mokuba locked the door behind him. Who knew what kind of crazies had moved into the apartment down the hall?

"He's reporting back to His Majesty." Kaiba sank into a chair in the kitchen area. "Paranoid prick could ruin everything." He put his head on the table.

Mokuba sat down next to Kaiba. "Did something happen after I left the theater?"

"Absolutely nothing happened. I only caught our lead and the writer grinding out in the open. But lucky for us, His Almighty Highness was clueless as always!" Kaiba punctuated his sarcastic comment with a choking, bitter laugh. He craned his neck to look up at Mokuba. "What do you want for dinner?"

Mokuba wasn't quite ready to deal with the new subject. "Wait, if Joey and Tristan keep at it, Duke's going to completely pull out?"

"Duke pulls out if Tristan doesn't." Kaiba gave another choking laugh. "Don't worry, though. Joey agreed to it, too. Even suggested the opening night date of transaction, if you know what I mean."

Mokuba stared levelly at his brother. "So you're running a brothel?"

"It's not a brothel," Kaiba corrected. "It's more of a theater with benefits."

"Does everyone sell themselves, or-"

"Don't be like that, Mokuba." Kaiba's sharp tone made Mokuba shrink into his seat. He ran his hands through his hair as if to collect his thoughts and continued in a gentler voice. "Whenever there's a big show and we need money for props or scenery or effects or whatever, we all hire ourselves out to do odd jobs or other things. Some find odd jobs, which are few and far between in this hole. The rest…do other things."

"Is there a third option?"

"Go to work for the enemy." Kaiba sniffed.

The door opened again and in walked Noah.

"Speaking of the enemy…" Kaiba trailed off, going to forage in the fridge.

"Shut it. I don't want to hear it tonight." Noah tossed his jacket on the couch.

"You never want to hear it, because you know you're wrong. How can you work for him after what he did to our company, to every duelist? He practically orchestrated the Fall with that dice shit." Kaiba slammed the fridge and yanked open the freezer. "But you never did have the balls to do much of anything, did you."

"Like what, go to the slums and do god knows what to get money?"

Kaiba turned from the freezer. "Do you want fish sticks or casserole, Mokuba?"

"Oh, very nice. Change the subject. What the hell, Seto, you never did that before. Don't start now."

"I didn't change the subject; I ended the conversation."

"Yeah, well, while we're on this one, you should have more sense about what you put in your mouth."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I just meant that frozen crap. It's pure fat and sodium and it's showing up on your ass."

"Huh." Kaiba snarled. "Maybe you could take your own advice—and remove Duke's dick."

Mokuba had to leave the room, but couldn't avoid the sound of Noah's hand on Kaiba's face. Or the sounds of the resulting fight.

"That's your answer to everything. Just beat the crap out of everyone and whoever wins is right," Noah growled.

"I don't care who's right at this point. Don't say shit like that in front of Mokuba. He doesn't need to know what I do after work."

How naïve do you think I am, Mokuba thought as he lay in bed, later. Do you think I don't know where you go at night? Because I do, Seto.

I don't even see the neighborhood but from a distance, and I don't need to. I already know it's worse than anywhere we've ever lived—before we were Kaibas and after the Fall—and for that reason alone, I should tie you up for the night and never let you leave until it's time for work. Or, I shouldn't have to, because you should decide to stay out of that dump.

There are junkies and hookers sprawled all over the streets. Sometimes cars swerve to avoid them. Other times…I really hope there aren't any other times. There are no homes, just houses. Crack houses. And hovels from hollowed out storefronts. And you want to help somebody, anybody, but you're so bad off yourself, you're not in any position to do anything.

But you, Big Brother, just walk right past them all, like it's nothing.

You act like you can't smell the fires in the trashcans, the smoke from the pipes, or the sick people. You act like you don't see the men passed out with a paper bag or the women on the corners, or vice versa. You act like you don't hear the yells of stabbing victims, the cries of crack babies, the breaking of bottles (sometimes from spilled trashcans, sometimes over someone's head).

I never took you for the actor type.

You enter one of the storefronts. There's probably some down-and-out duelist hanging around. Or one of your past business partners. Some guy whose money dried up after the Fall; he could live for a while, but it all ran out.

Well, not all of it.

He's broke, out of work, and, most importantly, lonely. And very horny. He hasn't had any action in months, maybe years, depending on who he was after the Fall. He can't get any on his own, and he desperately needs to get his rocks off.

This is where you come in. Even dressed in tattered clothes and only lit by the fire pits and flickering streetlights, you're somehow irresistible to these men. Maybe it's your confidence. Maybe they recognize you from a duel from your past lives. Maybe they think they'll regain their youth and sanity through your interaction that night.

You both lie down on his soiled mattress. I can't even begin to imagine the things you're saying, let alone what's going on in your head. Actually, that's wrong. I can imagine what you're thinking; you're doing it for me, for Noah, for the crew at the Black Dragon, for dueling. Good reasons, but remember the saying about good intentions—or maybe you don't; you never were religious.

You just lie back and think of card games.

He either kisses you or he doesn't. If he does, it's an empty gesture devoid of any emotion other than lust, despair, or some twisted sense of accomplishment (you don't let on that you faked it all—you really do amaze me with your acting). If he doesn't, well, you're okay with that. You didn't kiss your associates after settling a deal, did you?

He shoves money into your hand. Or your pants. You take it.

You leave the man, the hovel, and the whole neighborhood. You'll be coming back, but next time, it'll be a different man, except when sometimes it isn't.

You'll sneak in, making sure nobody, not even the downstairs neighbors with supersonic hearing, knows you're back until they see you. And you make damn sure they don't see you, because your clothes are not in the same smooth state they were in when you left.

I nearly jump out of bed in alarm because the man coming through the door doesn't smell like my brother. You don't after doing that. Your smell is completely smothered by that of another man, usually a highly unwashed one. Your eyes don't look the same either. They're empty, lifeless, even though you're moving around the apartment like you just drank a gallon of coffee. If Noah's there to see you—not likely—he stays far away. Neither of you have the energy to fight after what you've both been up to.

Mokuba was drifting off to sleep when the front door shut softly. "And I don't have it in me to pretend anymore." He entered the realm of Dreamland, shutting the gates on the previous unpleasant thoughts.

Kaiba crept to his little brother's room to check on him. Mokuba wasn't a child anymore (certainly not after that night's revelation), but old habits died hard. He pushed the door open silently and peered in. He went to tuck Mokuba in, but stopped himself.

"Not before I take a shower," he thought, turning toward the bathroom.

-O-o-O-o-O-