Title: Grave Robber

Summary: Seto wanted to take his secrets to the grave, but when a class project lands him and Joey closer than desired, those secrets become harder to protect than ever. Especially when Joey is discovering the common ground they share.

Contains: Yoai, lemon in random chapters, references to child abuse and molestation, sudden flashbacks, arguments, and occasionally ooc-ness

Pairing: Seto X Joey

Disclaimer: I do not own yu-gi-oh or the characters, I also make no money from the writing of this fanfic.

Author's Note: This chapter is abrupt in more ways than one. Try to keep up.

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Ten minutes until ten thirty…Ten minutes…Okay, so he had ten minutes to answer seven essay questions. What was seven divided into ten? Okay, so he had about a minute and a half to answer each question… What was the first question? Okay…yeah, he knew the answer to that. Three sentences was the minimum…thank god he could write fast, even with the intense pressure of the exceedingly tight leather collar bound about his neck…

Okay…there were six more to go…seven minutes left? No! He needed to write faster! But that collar was so tight…it was making him gag. But there wasn't time to gag! Second question, what was the second question? …He didn't know the answer to that. He'd have to think about it…but there wasn't time to think about it! He needed to know NOW! Right now, before Gozaburo showed up to check his progress.

Before he…

"The work isn't done!" Gozaburo was already here. But how? He wasn't there a second ago! And already…Slam! He had punched the desk Seto worked at. With a swift hand, Gozaburo had grabbed him by the dog collar around his neck and shook him.

He continued shouting, but it was as if Seto had gone deaf—he couldn't hear what he was saying. All he could do was feel the pain as he was pulled up from his seat and as he was shoved backwards hard enough that he collided with the table. When he was pushed by the man again his knees gave out and he fell back onto the desk, his head hitting the table with enough force that his vision split.

Then his hearing returned.

"The work isn't done! Nothing gets done around here! You're wasting my money! You're wasting my time!" Everything turned into a blur. He was fighting to get up from the table, Gozaburo was holding him down—why was he holding him down? The man's grip on his forearms was so strong…Seto felt as though his bones would break under the pressure.

Gozaburo released one of Seto's arms, but only to free a hand so he could strike. With no reserve, the older man struck at the boy's face—sending Seto's head repeatedly into the hard table. The man's hand collided with his face continuously, sometimes hitting his jaw, other times his ear, his nose, striking his eye or pounding against his temple.

If he tried to lift his freed hand to defend himself against the blows, Gozaburo would just grab it and shove it away and continue on. Seto felt blood run from his mouth as he shouted at the man, making any threat he could think of—telling the press, calling the police. Whatever he did, if this was a test, he didn't want to appear weak and inferior before the man…he would not submit—lay there and sob and plead for the pain to end.

He would fight…or at least try to.

The remaining hand that pinned Seto to the table was released for a moment but, before Seto could worm away, the hand had clamped onto his throat, pressing down on the thick and heavy leather collar he was forced to wear and cut off his air supply.

Seto had clawed at the hand, trying to pry it away and becoming more and more desperate as shadows appeared at the corners of his vision and his lungs became enflamed…but his efforts grew more disoriented and weaker as each second ticked by.

He needed a breath or he felt he would die. His vision was growing black, his body had seemingly gone numb…He didn't deserve this... Seto could feel his entire body going limp, his only free hand collapsing on the table weakly, fingers curling feebly.

But he didn't want to die… He felt so helpless, but too confused to know whether or not he wanted someone to burst in the room to save him.

He was supposed to be a man, wasn't he? He should have been able to fight his step father off… He didn't want caught dead wearing that collar… Maybe it was best if no one came… it would feel good to sleep for a while…

To succumb to the shadows for a little while.

But one world's sleep was another's consciousness…

Seto rolled onto his side and gazed at the clock…Three thirty… of course it was. It was always too early to feel fully rested and too late to think going back to sleep was an option.

He sat up rigidly and brushed the tips of his fingers across on side of his neck. All that remained from that night, the fourth time that Gozaburo had ever acted violently against him, were the scars where the leather of the degrading collar had grated against his skin as he'd struggled to get loose while he still had the drive…scars he had to spend the rest of his life trying to hide.

It was so repulsive!

Seto flung the sheets off of himself and got out of bed. He was sick of having worthless memories bombard him in the night. What good did it do? Reliving the most humiliating moments of his entire life, every night like a fucking tragedy movie montage…It was all that mutt's fault, that dog.

Everyone knew what type of man his father was—Seto had heard the blonde mutt's friends discussing it once. Oh, he wasn't one to eavesdrop, but those brats had to talk so loud all of the time. He didn't care to hear about that dog's troubles! He didn't care about them! But knowing that that mutt was going home to a master that beat him reminded him of that worthless businessman.

He stormed into his room's attached bathroom and shed his nightclothes. He was up at three-thirty? Fine! He'd just start his work day that much earlier. He'd take a shower, get dressed, go to his office and get some damned work done before that dog that was chewing the furniture in his guest room woke up and demanded attention…

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"Get up!" Joey jolted and fell straight off the edge of the bed and onto the floor. Once the initial surprise had worn off, he found himself more annoyed that he'd fallen off the edge of a massive bed that he should have been sleeping in the middle of than at being awoken by shouting. The shouting he was used to, falling onto million dollar floors he was not. "I won't have you missing a meal so you can complain about how I didn't feed you later, you mutt." Joey peered over the edge of the bed after managing to sit up through the mess of blankets that swarmed him. He met Kaiba's gaze with annoyance, but only grumbled a few words in response. "You can find the dining room yourself. You don't have time to take a shower right now, so just keep wearing…that...and then wash up later." Kaiba retreated from the doorway in a flourish of coattail and disappeared down the hall.

"Rich bastard," Joey grumbled to himself, pulling away and crawling back onto the bed at the same time. As he considered returning to sleep, his stomach screamed in protest and he just kept crawling until he slid off the other side—leaving the blankets behind as he stood up from the floor.

Finding the dining room had been no trouble at all…thanks to a maid he'd passed in the hall who helped him find the right place with a plastic smile and artificial politeness.

Kaiba was sitting at the head of the table and reading something off his laptop which occupied the table space on his right. Mokuba sat at his left, and a place had been set for Joey beside him.

Based on the shifted angle of the plate on the placemat and the disheveled appearance of the silverware on his napkin in relation to the off center place for his drink, Joey assumed that the arrangement had been moved from either the floor (since, to Kaiba, he was a dog) or from the farthest side of the table possible.

For Mokuba's sake, Joey pretended he didn't notice.

"Seto," Mokuba said oddly quietly after quite a few minutes ticked by. Kaiba hummed in response. "…Can you—"

"I don't have time right now, Mokuba," Kaiba interjected, not taking his eyes from the screen. The child looked down at his plate discouraged, but not remarkably upset, but Joey was staring at the brunette in shock.

"You didn't even hear what he had to say!" Joey stated, thinking out loud but not too ashamed of it.

"Not now, you dog," Kaiba grumbled, hardly putting any effort into the argument.

"Seto," Mokuba scolded. "Joey, really, it's not that big of a deal."

"No, it is a big deal! If he can't multitask—answer a question and work at the same time—then he's not as good of a businessman as everyone keeps spouting, is he?"

"Joey," Mokuba said in a firm, cautioning voice.

"I mean, you don't even let him finish his sentence! Everyone always says how nice you are to take care of your little brother—what would they say if—"

"If what?" Kaiba barked, turning his blue eyes from the screen and locking them with Joey's. "What's to say? Did I hit him?"

"S-Seto…"

"Did I get in his face and start shouting? Did I push him into the table? No! I guess there's nothing to say then, is there, you filthy mutt? So shut your mouth before I get a muzzle and do it for you!"

"Seto," Mokuba mumbled. "It's just Joey, calm down."

"Dogs can still bark if they've got muzzles on," Joey grumbled, not wanting to lose the argument, but not wanting the fight to escalate either.

"Can they still bark if they're dead, because I think I know someone who can put a dog your size down for very little money down."

"Seto!"

"In fact, I think this guy even disposes of the body for me. How kind is that?"

"So now you're making death threats? Real mature," Joey argued, looking at his plate but sporting no appetite.

What was he doing? Just the night before, he had actually connected a few dots in the messed up jumble of the rich kid's brain, and now he was tearing into him as if nothing had changed. Surly he was better than that, right?

"Is there some point you're trying to make by attacking me?" Kaiba demanded. Joey looked up from his plate. "Because I don't get it." He looked as though he had more to say, but his eyes darted in Mokuba's direction briefly and that said enough. That look that Mokuba probably felt but didn't see said 'I'm working a non-stop shift and raising a kid; you think you could do better?' Maybe Kaiba didn't mean it to say that, but that's what Joey interpreted.

And it made sense.

Though the night had passed, Kaiba was still tired, and he was still stressed. Nothing had changed from the night before. His body may have rested, but Joey doubted that the man's mind ever did.

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A/N: A relatively abrupt ending, but I don't want to have a really, really long chapter when it can be broken in half logically. For the sake of an update, as well, I shall end this chapter here.

No one in this mansion is a morning person…