Chapter Twelve: Originate from Disruption

/ "...but you have to let me.." /

"Now why would I want to do a thing like that?"

The answer, although simple, took quiet some time, and Joey hadn't had the chance to fully recover from the facedown card Kaiba hadn't realize he'd played. So there was a great deal of staring, and an even greater deal of silence, but then finally Joey's eyes seemed to over throw the expansive black spaces drowning out all hues of blue. Even though his own had narrowed into practically nothingness, they still seemed to have some sort of strength against the exposure of the other's.

"Because everything isn't always about winning," Joey said without further thought; not realizing he'd presented the statement as fact rather than awaiting the brunettes stamp of approval by fashioning it into a question.

Kaiba's expression didn't change, but his tone had become eerily even. "Easy to say when you're the one always losing," his voice ended abruptly, leaving his eyes to say the rest.

A pang stronger than Joey wanted to admit stabbed him with disappointment, but he was determined to hold what little ground he'd established. "And even easier to ignore when you've never lost." Joey cocked his head to the side, "Oh wait…"

"It was like one time," Kaiba rolled his eyes, catching and redirecting the noncompliant look Joey shot in him in response. "Okay so like four times. But that's it. So what?"

"So?" Joey asked, feeling all the more sorry for the stranger sitting across from him. "You're obsessed with it."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Oh my god." Joey stared. "Are too, you wont even lose this stupid conversation," he followed accusingly, " even though you sound ridiculous."

That caused Kaiba to bite his tongue, a reaction so subtle that it almost seemed natural, although Joey had never seen him do it before. In fact he hadn't ever seen the brunette so susceptible, so prone to revealing these inconsistencies.

"Fine," he turned away. "So, I like to win. I'm good at it."

"And I'm really good at blackjack," the blonde raised sarcastically, "but you don't see me gambling myself broke, do you?"

"One." Kaiba began, "That was a horrid comparison." His head shook as if it were truly painful. "And two. Your whole life is a gamble."

That gave Joey pause, but he didn't rise to the bait. "Good thing that's even stupider than what I said."

"More stupid," came the out of habit correction. "And I thought it was rather fitting."

Joey rolled his eyes. "Maybe if you didn't describe life in general Mr. I'm-So-Clever."

Suddenly Kaiba began to catch his drift however, and you could see the slightly embarrassed look that filled his eyes for the moment, despite the fact the rest of him would never give any such confirmation. Although the inside of his mind looked quiet drastically different than the composure he maintained on the surface level—it was just barely. Even Kaiba could feel the cracks and the inconsistencies, but his brain was ever bustling around to erase and correct them, and it was a thought process he couldn't prevent. However, ever flowing, the thoughts were also ever changing, and they were constantly pulling the brunette in different directions. So rather than latching on and expanding, he retraced the conversation and reevaluated its roots.

"This still doesn't explain why all of a sudden you want to get to know me."

"Well…so what if I do," Joey argued, unfazed. "Why is that so bad?"

Because you have no idea who I am, Kaiba considered with a mixture of fear and sadness, but found himself overcome with relief when their waitress interrupted and saved him from answering.

Jesus Christ, Joey thought loudly at everything the other boy ordered, does Kaiba even know how to eat? He compared the others slim figure to his stockier build. However, four courses later and finally the brunette appeared to be content , although his eyes seemed to say that they could have added at least two or three more things—where he intended to put all that food, the blonde had yet to decide.

"Just water," Joey told her, almost confused, as he handed back the menu-watching the mischief in Kaiba's quickly redirected behavior with a blank sense of disturbance.

Good. Kaiba detected the unspoken confusion almost as fast as Joey himself. I just have to keep this up and beat him at his own game. If he wants to go on some yuppy mission, then I'll give him a show.

"What are you so happy about?" Joey asked, feeling his wallet weigh down in his pocket.

But Kaiba just smiled.

Joey shook his head, "You look creepy as hell."

"Please tell me you didn't just try to be ghetto."

"Don't hate the player," Joey stretched out his arms, "Hate the game."

"You're not even owning this a little bit," Kaiba discouraged.

"But at least I'm trying," Joey emphasized, with a big smile full of teeth. When it comes to expensive dates—if all else fails, buy them with a sense of humor he convinced himself hopefully. Even money bags had to have one….somewhere in all that stone cold silence. "Unlike some—"

"I got it the first time," Kaiba cut him off, as if annoyed by what he perceived as childish.

"Does that mean you're gonna listen this time?"

"No."

"Ugh, please," Joey whined, feeling his calmness melt into a dependency for a consistency his mind had begun to lack.

With one leg crossed, Kaiba turned in his seat. "Oh look, the foods here!"

Conversation sank into oblivion after that, and Joey couldn't tell whether it seemed like hours or seconds that they sat there. His back seemed to slump, and yet the farther down his posture slipped, the more Kaiba began to fidget. This drowsiness wasn't uncommon, but Joey hadn't ever been around anyone when it took into effect, and it almost seemed like he could sense his defenses wearing off.

Feeling more anxious, he tried to sit still, but became unnerved by the restless repetition of Kaiba shaking his foot. The brunette had been quiet but thoughtful, not touching any of the food in front of him except to push it around his plate; and in spite of that, he seemed even more concentrated than he had before. The feeling morphed in and out of uncertain conclusions and dissolved whatever energy Joey had left.

When the bill arrived, he temporarily retained his focus, but only to be distracted by the devilish half smile that crept onto Kaiba's face as he pulled both pockets out empty. "Oops, I must have forgotten."

"You're saying that on purpose," Joey criticized, calling him out instinctively.

"But I thought we were buds now?" Kaiba implored, fluttering his lashes manipulatively. To control the man, you must first learn to break the man.

Joey clenched his teeth and plastered a painfully sarcastic smile. "You're absolutely right, friends help each other out," he played off the other boy's tactics with every last ounce of vigor, "it sure is nice to have someone around who's there for you, right Kaiba?"

The thought hit closer to home than Gozaburo ever would have let it, and yet Seto's strings couldn't shift out of the way in time to avoid the crash-landing. So the words fell around him and tangled. Mobility began to cramp, and his circulation had been suffering from nicotine fit. The chaos, in turn, left only a select few words, well one in particular, behind to be processed. Help? The word was both as strange and unfamiliar as it was damaging.

Especially while Kaiba watched Joey struggle with his wallet at the counter adjacent from the row of benches he sat waiting on. As Joey pulled another handful of coins form his pocket, all that came to the brunette's mind were the five digits left on their bill. I probably never should have lied. The boy drew his hand over the small clip of credit cards inside the breast of his jacket. I doubt he can afford it.

"You still remember what that feels like, don't you?" The sound in his subconscious was sharp and sudden—lacking all control as Mokuba's parting words played over and over again in his head, plaguing him involuntarily with a mix of memories that never belonged together.

A small, disappointed frown weighed Kaiba down guiltily after watching the blonde struggle to organize his piles incrementally. An effortless observation made it obvious to him that the currency must still be fairly unfamiliar to Joey. He didn't even know he was supposed to have Health Insurance, Kaiba remembered systematically. Who's to say he treats the rest of his life any different?

The idea, however, became impairing, falling victim to Kaiba's overactive thought process that began to break down the disturbing visual of how inadequately the dog must have lived. The cookie cutter complexes fell in grid-like patterns of alternating rows and columns; and to Seto, Joey's apartment building started to look more like cages in a kennel. He doesn't even know any better…

A sad and somewhat suppressed visual popped up like a flashbulb that lit the shadowy shelves of Kaiba's library-like-memories. Involuntarily, he inhaled steadily while lowering his eyelids; and swore he could smell the sycamore trees…It was so strange how the memory of his home surfaced fresh and vivid, even though the layers of dust had been archaically accumulating on its cover for years.

"You about ready?" Joey's voice shook him, and Kaiba watched as the pages tore down the dollhouse-like-scenery, splintering the woodwork and chipping at the paint.

"I'm always ready," Kaiba said embodying his callous. He had carelessly slid the book back on a shelf, misplacing the memory somewhere out of sync.

"You look pretty lost to me."

"We're always lost," he dwelled to himself dismally.

Joey's eyes widened with childlike curiosity. "Then where do you go?"

"Nowhere."

"Nowhere?"

"Nowhere," Kaiba confirmed.

"Ever?"

"Never."

Joey insatiably drank in the sentiment of Kaiba's subtle sincerity. Never satisfied when the soft sound stopped, he coaxed the conversation on with colorless eyes until both of them were drowning; rocking back and forth between the waves they were now walking along.

"How do you find your way back?"

Delicate memories were fading in and out of focus, and Kaiba let go; knowing all too well he'd soon forget where he'd left them. "You don't."

"But don't you want to go home?"

"You can't," Kaiba released another empty sigh, refusing to look back.

"Ever?" Joey asked dishearteningly.

And then Kaiba lost complete sight of them. "Never."

-.-.-

Even once he was safe inside the walls of his apartment, the exhaustion still took hold of Joey like no other. Sighing, he collapsed onto his mattress. Pulling several things out from his pocket, he tossed his Red Eyes to the side, Some help you were, he rolled his eyes at the inanimate object, while fumbling to undo the container between his palms. Somehow he'd lost his cool and Kaiba seemed to have gained an unspoken advantage that was causing his decrease in comfort to transform into anxiety.

The spiral wasn't devastating, but Joey had seen what it could turn into before, and he never wished to wake up in a hospital room with Kaiba waiting on the other side somewhere ever again. So he counted on his fingers how many he had taken that day, and granted himself the leeway for this one extra. Only because it's an emergency.

This, this wager he'd contracted had turned on him like a tidal wave and yet he couldn't even decide in what direction it came from. He had asked all the right questions, and kept up with Kaiba almost until the end—but his confidence had tripped over the sensitive breaks in their conversation. The brunette was uncannily uncharacteristic, and notions of progress became quickly lost within the currents that lacked all continuity.

Without consistency, Joey's heart thumped out of rhythm, and beat towards the structured shores of Kaiba's subconscious, wishing desperately to wash up onto them; however, even that definite desire began to distort when he found that confidence had collided and casted shadows of doubt. For the most part, the brunette was everything Joey had expected from someone with a pedigree—he was cavalier, disinterested, and he refused to look desperate. Even when it was so obvious that there was something…something else hidden behind those smirks and smiles, the unusual words that were offered by the brunette willingly seemed too cryptic to decode.

He just doesn't say things like that, Joey stared up towards the ceiling emptily, replacing the uncertain wriggling of his lips with a cigarette to focus on. And I thought he said he didn't ask questions? Joey yawned reflectively, feeling his eyes growing heavier under the relaxed pressure of his medicine draining the unwanted apprehension.

It was true that Kaiba had claimed, very clearly in fact, that he didn't need to ask questions because he was the one giving all the answers—and yet he had asked so many. Even scarier yet, he answered even more. Well, perhaps it wasn't justifiable to call most of his responses answers, but conversation, whether productive or not, still seemed to have more merit than silence. Why did he have to say all that at the end though? Joey wondered, watching smoke form in a series of circles overhead. And why did I play along?

The vague and unprovoked references to home had disturbed the guilt towards leaving that Joey hadn't yet reconciled, despite therapy or his so called miracles. No, not even his armor could deflect the bullets that home gunned him down with, and the wounds were all reopening.

In this longing, forlorn sort of way it made him wish they were back there, so that maybe then this situation could start to look more familiar. I guess this situation wouldn't exist then though he realized, almost sadly, but more than dejected he felt overwhelmed with fear. The fear of impermanence. The fear of losing everything.

Kaiba isn't everything though, he dragged his cigarette and corrected himself simultaneously. He's not even everything I have. Then his thoughts unthinkingly came to terms with the fact that, Without Mokuba…Kaiba is hardly anything at all. That seemed truthful too, as sad and almost pathetic as it sounded, but Joey knew only of Kaiba the things that he had decided himself. Even the brunette had said as much when Joey tried to peal back one of his layers, and perhaps it was truer than even Kaiba realized; because he had started to stop making sense.

Just that statement alone contradicted everything Joey had ever cataloged about the brunette, and after denying it was even possible for the other duelist to err for so long, the reality of it refused to align. But then it dawned on him that Seto Kaiba was nowhere near his little brother, and that notion was even stranger than the first. Not unlike his sister and himself, the one didn't go without the other. Like two working halves a whole, it was no wonder both of them seemed so broken; they were missing their other halves. A comparison Joey would never draw lightly.

But his head was feeling awfully heavy and he had gone ahead and drawn it, as well as a second cigarette, even though he'd practically let the first burn out from neglect. It just made too much sense; Mokuba was sort of like a mood ring—at least that's how Joey had come to look at it. Because the only time you could see any expression resembling certain emotion was in the reactions they produced in the younger Kaiba. And even then it was so hard to read Kaiba because sometimes Mokuba didn't need to 'figure out' what was going through the brunette's head, he already knew

Somewhere in mid-thought Joey flooded into scenes of Serenity—the sister he'd left behind—and the second biggest connection he could make between Kaiba and himself aside from chancing to meet here in the first place. It was actually kind of weird how he drew the parallel of being an older brother between them after putting together how many times he'd seen Mokuba treat his elder like Joey treated Serenity, and vice versa. They were all the other had…and that was as much as Joey concluded, and as human as he'd ever admit Kaiba could be.

Ignorance is bliss however, and acting natural about something is the biggest oxymoron since jumbo shrimp. There was nothing natural about pretending, and no amount of acting that could make Joey's last remarks sincere. So the self-confidence faltered against the grounds by which it had none to stand, and the rest transposed.

Technicolor waves of blue seemed to protest as they bounced off the backs of Joey's restlessly, but the colors refused each other. Contradictory to earlier, he felt like even Seto's eye color was too good to mingle with the hazel hues that scattered unevenly like constellations in his irises. Focusing in on his rivals qualities so intricately made him shudder, almost in embarrassment, but he couldn't help how unnaturally Kaiba could will the currents to fit his motives so smugly, and yet swallow even the most microscopic signs of life…

And for a second he imagined Kaiba in the middle of the ocean, as if his eyes really were layers of sea-floor that got deeper and darker the further you went down; and knowing Kaiba, I'm sure his ocean would have the most layers too. Joey smirked at the excessive perfectionist always proving he was still as rich and successful as yesterday—as if anyone ever questioned it. Joey's mouth couldn't hold the upward arch for long though, because he noticed that the brunette's typically disconnected demeanor had caused him to place Kaiba completely alone. Even though he knew that Kaiba intentionally put the distance between himself and any human interaction. That was people though, so it was different—but these oceanic currents had not a single fish—not even algae; and even worse, his rival's silhouette just kind of hovered, levitating over the endless body of water.

Why couldn't he have pulled up in a big yacht, just to insult me? The blonde wondered uncomfortably at the sight of deeper significance, but it became another backwards way of questioning why his mind hadn't structured the visual accordingly—why it didn't match up with the file stamped "Asshole" in his brain. But there was no yacht, not even a raft; there wasn't anything, and even Joey didn't know if it was a still-frame or a movie that was materializing through out his brain anymore. There was no wind—absolutely no sound, and the water didn't so much as ripple—nor did Kaiba's replica do anything but stare straight ahead into nothing.

Scarily accurate, Joey really felt like this was a scene he had witnessed because his memory drew Kaiba's symmetry flawlessly; but he wasn't quiet sure what it meant until he realized that even in such dangerous waters, Kaiba didn't need anything. And when Joey tried to peer down into those same waters, he retracted with an almost envious sadness; there was no reflection….and he realized how real the emptiness was beneath the emotionless executive…how truly alone…

It was like he didn't even need himself.

-.-.-

Home.

Kaiba played around with the word in his mouth even after leaving the ideas behind. The look in Joey's eyes was following him, and with it, it was dragging fragments. Or perhaps it was him pulling them along, he'd lost sight of that distinction though as the thoughts began to clot where they once were fluid.

Reaching into his pocket, Kaiba's fingers brushed guiltily past his credit cards on the way to his pack; he could hear the last few cigarettes restlessly sliding as he rummaged past them for his lighter. The smoke didn't feel as good as earlier and kept blowing backwards through his hair. It seemed to illuminate a trail that the brunette found himself too tempted to follow; and for a moment, the waves sounded as delicate as piano keys pressing down in overlapping strokes.

It was still too sensitive, but how could he deny it was alive? He could feel it-a song he'd never written, but somehow he was repeating back the words. They merged with Mokuba's and Seto's thoughts became a symphony of smoke and seaweed, drowning in the spotlight of hazel that was invisible to the night. With every vital sign failing but constantly resuscitating, his senses still felt sharp as ever when the smell of sycamore flooded his nostrils, confusing him internally as the roots broke and the branches rebuilt the floorboards of Joey's apartment. The images didn't fit and yet they were entangled in a tree that turned to glass.

Home.

The word resurfaced as if commanded and upon his next step—it shattered. Shards of animosity swirled with smoke and he felt his body pivot despite his better judgment. This was intuitive though—automatic and uninhibited. Kaiba couldn't refuse it; something had melted softly in the pit of his stomach, and he felt his emotions go tame. Too long had he been fighting this, the cool rush had startled the enraged, egotistical flames burning behind flame resistant irises, and the glossy-marble-blue rings poured down like buckets.

Not tears, metaphorically speaking maybe, but he couldn't even remember what it felt like to cry, as if the action had been deleted from memory. Nevertheless, the shock extinguished Kaiba's dominant elations and consumed the flames, replacing said intensity with transpiring smoke screens that temporarily obscured his vision. Throwing off his natural order, the waves were dousing his defenses, and had posed a threat to Kaiba's ability to predetermine a strategic advance; he was already taking the stairs in twos, archaic instincts had taken Darwinian action instead, making survival the only objective.

Knock-Knock-Knock. There was no going back.

Groggily, two reddened eyes popped out from the darkness, and Joey's footsteps were softly creaking from side to side in confusion. The brunette felt the stabbing rush of his heartbeat racing against his ribcage, and the eyes that had followed him had found their way back to his face.

The words came out in a misplaced rush, "So tomorrows my birthday."

"You're…birthday?" Joey was yawning, trying to hold the words down as he covered his mouth with one hand.

The question offset him. "Yes. October 25th. Tomorrow," he spoke choppily in fragments. "My birthday."

Joey's eyes readjusted then widened, "Your birthday!" He exclaimed as if he should have remembered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you right now."

"Well, why?"

"Because," the brunette chewed his bottom lip, "It's something about me."

"So it is," Joey crossed his arms snuggly, leaning into the frame of the door. "A pretty big something."

"No." The red tint in the blonde's eyes almost glistened. "It's just a day," Kaiba rationalized. "It's no bigger than any other."

Joey's jaw unhinged. "But it's your birthday!"

"Comes every year," he shrugged awkwardly. "So?"

"So we should be celebrating," Joey rocked his body forward to refrain from falling asleep. "They did program birthdays into you, right?"

"Standing right here," Kaiba rolled his eyes. "Not a robot."

Joey narrowed his eyes skeptically. "I still have my doubts."

The comment received another eye roll. "I don't know why I bother."

"Your circuits are rerouting, duh."

"Still not a robot."

"Okay Mr. Still Not A Robot," Joey chimed, with this newfound amusement for coining nicknames. "So you know we're going out tomorrow, right?"

"Oh, second date?" Kaiba chirped, feigning excitement.

"Quit the shit," Joey turned lazily, rolling along the doorframe inside against the wall. "Come on in," his foot held the door open just far enough for Kaiba's fingers to grab onto.

"What for?" the unfamiliarity of the invitation raised caution.

"Planning," came another yawn from the other side of the darkness.

"Planning?"

"Yeah," his fingers fumbled with a switch, "You like that sort of thing, don't you?"

Joey watched the confusion of Kaiba's face forming uncertainly around the skepticism that he was being insulted. "Well…yes," he offered, still unconvinced, but stepping into the threshold.

The apartment was just as pathetic as he remembered and even more poorly kept that he recreated. There were no pictures present, not that he had any up at his place either, but Joey just seemed like he should harbor some kind of keepsake. All the brunette found, however, was an air mattress with disheveled sheets and a balled up comforter. He was asleep, he thought stupidly. Then shook his head to himself at an angle escaping Joey's line of vision, and let his own fall in synchronized patterns around the rest of the space. It didn't take long, and there wasn't much there, but he saw so much in that short time. From the bed to the floorboards, there were random trails of ashes, some sprinkled, some disrupted, but they were everywhere. Empty packs of Marlboro Menthol lay in crumbled piles of green and white packaging, crunched in the middle as if a fist had surrounded, and suffocated them. The site disturbed him, but made him stay—patiently listening as Joey plopped down, clearly leaving it to the brunette to make himself comfortable.

"So how old?" Joey looked him up and down curiously, lazy eyes not fully forming.

"We're definitely the age."

"No we're not."

"Yes," he stared at him strangely. "We are."

"You're a year older than us," Joey corrected him, with unhindered certainty. "I remember."

"Remember what?"

"When you transferred."

The brunette almost smiled, "How do you still remember that?" It was such a random instance to recall amidst their current predicament.

"Really?" Joey's stare was as familiar as it was somber though. "You do make quiet an impression."

This time the redness was a shade too strong for concealing, and the idea of attention made the CEO shy, but his medication hadn't worn off completely. So although flustered, he made a convincing redirect of both his eyes and his words. "Look who's talking."

"For real?"

"For real."

"Trench-coats," Joey challenged.

Kaiba had no choice but to accept. "Dog tags."

"Personal," Joey scowled. "Locket."

The brunette's face scrunched, awkwardly not in severe offense. "You really wanna go there, Wheeler?"

"Oh, I went there," the other boy rocked forward provokingly.

"Fine," Kaiba caught his lips in a cool grin. "Yo-yo's."

"Not cool."

"Not my problem," he replied.

Joey's confidence fell clearly under the shade of crimson as he withdrew.

"No pun intended," Kaiba grinned, "But I do believe I just walked the dog."

"Yeah, so this is the impression I was talking about," Joey rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well at least I'm unforgettable," the brunette shrugged, with an almost playful face that continued to twist in and out of expressions Joey had never known existed.

"That you are," Joey agreed with wide eyes, "that you are."

"Good," Kaiba's face scrunched spontaneously, "You do know you definitely could have just added a year onto how old you are by the way, right?"

Joey found himself laughing. "Wow!"

"Yeah," the grin transferred to the other boy, "And here's that impression that I was talking about."

Joey rolled his eyes. "So let me guess, does that make me the forgotten?"

"Not by me."

"Well that's not comforting."

"You're not comforting."

"Awe," Joey's shoulders pinched upward to his ears, "Did you want my shoulder to cry on?"

"I'd just prefer Kleenex," Kaiba didn't seem to catch the joke, eyeing the blonde strangely and seriously once again.

"Trick question!" Joey shouted over him, "Robots can't cry!"

"You never cease to amuse yourself, do you?"

Joey reached over for an ashtray, knocking down various plastic water bottles and crumbled sheets of notebook paper form his nightstand. "No, not really," he grinned, scooting backward to prop his back upright against the wall. "You know you're allowed to sit down," his eyes gestured from a chair to a space on the edge of the bed.

Kaiba had to force his lips from curling in the slightest disgust, envisioning the ashes that were probably folded throughout the covers. "I like to stand," he answered instead, feeling it was easier to answer with avoidance.

"Yeah, yeah," Joey waved both hands, balancing his cigarette as he spoke, "Don't be such a priss."

"Don't call me names," the brunette scowled, unhappily edging his way over.

Joey noted him sitting down stiffly, "First time on an air-mattress?"

Yet the sarcasm escaped the brunette once again, who's palms were planted uncomfortably at his sides, "Yeah," he breathed out.

"So tell us," Joey held an invisible microphone out to Kaiba mockingly, "What's it like?"

"You are five years old," the elder boy pushed away the blonde's hand.

"Ah, so then you'll be turning six?" Joey asked. "This explains a lot."

But there was an unflinching discomfort that spread through the features across from him, and Kaiba seemed to avoid it all together. "So, about this planning," he insisted, "its almost half past midnight already."

"Well maybe you should have thought of that earlier," Joey shot him a no-brainer look.

The flat, unappreciative expression confirmed that the CEO recognized the fault was his own. "So I'm not so good as this whole spontaneity thing," he admitted sardonically, "But at least I'm trying, remember?"

"Good memory," the blonde smiled at the choice of quoting.

"Better than yours," Seto's eyes slid to the sandcastle of ashes unevenly collecting underneath his cigarette filter.

"God-," Joey's voice rose and fell before releasing the damn-it. "That was my last one."

Observing the innocent frustration on Joey's face, an identical pack reached out into the space between them, "Here, have one of mine."

"Amazinggg," the blonde's face lifted in surprise, and even more surprisingly to Kaiba's satisfaction.

"Ah-ah," he inched it backwards and Joey's fingers flinched, "On one condition," he said firmly. "No balloons."

"Okay, got it weirdo."

"I'm serious," Seto withdrew the pack once more, leaving the other boy to pout as his both of his eyes traced the backwards projectile. "None at all."

Redirecting his eyes in annoyance, Joey looked up at the unfaltering solemnity staring back at him. "Wait, are you afraid of balloons?"

"It's a perfectly rational fear!" he replied in a prominent rush of oxygen and noise which dropped into the dimensions of a whisper, "they're dangerous."

"Are you afraid they'll hear you too?" Joey whispered back loudly.

Kaiba threw the pack at Joey this time. "Well way to be a dick about it."

"Uhm," Joey stared back blatantly as he accepted the cigarette from the pack that had slid down his chest, "Way to be afraid of balloons."

"Okay, you know what, you could accidently swallow one, or it could deflate and shoot into your eyes," the brunette spoke quickly to the widening spheres of black and hazel that had gone more pink than red now. "And, and animals," he added nervously, but with that heat of the moment assuredness. "They can be extremely hazards to health and habitats."

"...You have clearly put a lot of thought into this," Joey drew his cigarette disbelievingly to the side, "I rest my case. No balloons."

"Oh thank god," Kaiba sighed as if Joey had been trying to push a Chuckie-Cheese party onto him for chrissake. "I hate them so much."

"Richy-Rich fact number two," Joey announced. "Fears party décor."

"Not true," Kaiba reached for the pack, getting lost in the back and forth banter that seemed to swallow their conversations recently. "Streamers are very nice."

"Oh are they?"

"Yes, no assembly, and endless possibilities."

"Hell, what are you in business for?" Joey asked. "Interior Decorator seems much more fitting."

There was no correction this time however, and Kaiba released that muffled mixture of muttering and throat clearing that represented laughter, "Oh yeah," he kept his grin from going anywhere, "I'm a regular Martha Stewart."

"Fact Number Three," Joey stated, curiously this time, "Robots know sarcasm."

He did however receive a slap on the side of the head for that, but Kaiba made sure to do it gently, something he may not have withheld a year ago. "I hate it when you call me that."

"No, I know," Joey smiled widely, ruffling his hair back into place.

Rolling his eyes painfully, Kaiba redirected them to his watch face. "Well its officially one in the morning—I have a conference call in three hours."

"But we didn't even plan anything yet," came the anticipated complaint.

Kaiba stood up though, the distance between ingestion and his medicine growing lengthier as the effects disappeared into autopilot. Glancing back before twisting the brass knob on the door, the brunette's head wavered from side to side, undecidedly smiling.

"Surprise me."

_ _ _x-*-.X.-*-x_ _ _

eek. reviews por favor? sorry again, lol sometimes I think parts of the dialogue are more so amusing the way I read them aloud in my head hah. buuut yeah, reviews would be appreciated like whoaaa. What the hell? 'RV 4 RV' bahah [[review-for-review]]-i'll bring back some classic 'Myspace'-bulletin-subject headline deals. [[and for those of you born past the myspace-was-cool-and-facebook-didn't-exist-phase of life-it means if you leave me a review, I'll leave you a review on one of your stories. hah basically you'll receive a review AND a reader-two for one.]]

also, as if it were 'that' important, but after this is: Chapter Thirteen: Another Year Older.