Bows of Promise

Chapter Three

"Let's try again, shall we? Good morning, Baby!"

"Still improper."

"Still uptight. I thought we had an agreement!"

"'Baby' hardly falls under the category of professional conduct, Dr. Kaiba."

There was a sigh.

"Call me Seto."

"I really don't have time for this," Yami sing-songed the familiar response.

"You treat me so terribly my dear," Seto sighed once again.

Yami shook his head, against his will a smile spreading across his features.

They stood side by side outside the operating room. They were scrubbing up. Seto's persistence was actually starting to amuse him after irritating him for the past month or so. He was a bit alarmed that Seto began to grow on him. Just a bit. He no longer seethed at bad jokes or silly taunts at inopportune times—the resuscitation room, for example—and it was just fun, this teasing banter between them.

Aside from the slight irritation at getting used to his colleague's less-than-subtle advances, everything seemed to settle down for him. The flurry of unrest that surrounded the first month of his arrival was dying down to a familiar routine of twelve hour shifts, clinic hours and operating room lists. He quickly adapted to the workload, the patients, the residents and the surgeries related to their thesis—which ended up being related to laparoscopic procedures anyway.

Today was the first time he scrubbed up as the main surgeon. Seto usually did that, and he acted as an assistant surgeon. He observed for two surgeries, then Seto asked him to scrub up with him on the third, where he held the camera for the brunet as he carried out the procedure. It was now a week and eight laparoscopies later and Yami was so ready to take control of the trocars, he was buzzing with excitement.

He always loved working with his hands… perhaps not exactly always; during his final years he had thought seriously of internal medicine, especially tropical medicine, to spend his residency and continue with it as his specialty. Then, after graduating and during his one year internship where they did rotations in every major branch's department, he discovered that he was just too good at physical skills. Not only that, he enjoyed them with passion that surprised even him. Soon, he couldn't stand being in rotations that involved sitting behind a desk, writing prescriptions with the only thing he did with his hands being placing a stethoscope on the patient.

He could trace it all back to one single moment. It was the start of the year, he had just graduated as the eightieth of his hundred-fifty-students batch—nothing too special, yet not too bad. He was on call in the pediatrics department, but there was civil unrest in the country at that time and they called everyone to help out in the emergency room. There was too many patients and too few caregivers.

It was the first time he ever held mosquito forceps and loaded a needle of prolene onto it. He had only watched someone else stitching up wounds and knew it in theory but never actually did it. It was the first time he aligned the wound's edges together…the first time he injected the local anesthesia into the wound, the first time to approximately determine the middle of it…the first time his wrist flicked lightly, digging the needle into skin, working quickly to pull it out, digging it into the other side and pulling. His hands very, very steady as he looped the blue prolene around itself, tying and retying it to form perfect knots which he arranged into neat lines on one side of the wound.

It was a euphoria that took him by surprise and stayed with him every single time a large accident came into the emergency room.

So, to finally be able to dig his hands in and work on this himself…oh yes, he was very excited.

He turned the water off with a push with his hips and walked with his arms raised in front of him to the operating room. He turned and pushed the double doors open with his shoulder, just as Seto followed suit, evilly asking, "Nice hip action… dance a lot?"

"Zumba, during my free time," he retorted cheekily, the reply rolling off his tongue with ease and lightheartedness that amazed him just mere moments after and he paused just slightly, then resumed tying his gown.

Usually he did not engage in such conversations. Usually, there was always something that stopped him. Sometimes, it was lack of time because he was getting paperwork done for this patient or that, or running after his professors to complete a thesis. Some other times, it was because it was a train wreck waiting to happen and he could see it miles away. Many times, he wasn't interested…

He was very picky… he was well aware of that. But he knew firsthand how disastrously things could end when he got too attached and he did not care for a repeat show, thanks a lot. Better safe than sorry.

He sighed imperceptibly. He was saved from whatever comeback Seto had as they finished putting on their protective gear by the patient coming in and the anesthesiologist started putting her to sleep. He and Seto took their place in the seats beside the bed. Yami received the scalpel from the assisting nurse, waiting for the go from the anesthesiologist.

Everything but the view of the laparoscope melted to the back of his mind. Within minutes, he had made his small incisions, the ports positioned in place and the instruments all inserted and the abdominal cavity inflated with the carbon dioxide. Seto's steady hand provided an excellent view for him to start the procedure and they adjusted the patient into position, letting the bowels fall away from the field.

He had done this before back in Egypt. But never with such accurate and reliable equipment. Here he allowed himself to truly let go of any worries that the camera's light might go out, the diathermy cable not working, the graspers not holding onto the soft, slippery tissues. Quickly and efficiently, he exposed and dissected the adhesions that blocked his view of the gallbladder he was supposed to remove and once he saw its hilum and obtained a clear critical view, he carefully identified the cystic duct and artery and started applying his clips. Once he was done, he inserted the retrieval pouch through the umbilical trocar and placed the removed bladder in it, pulling it out of the patient's body and sent it for pathology analysis. He then returned the patient into position and did the final inspection and washout.

Only as he and Seto were placing the final stitches to the small incisions where the instruments were placed, did he find out that this took him only forty-five minutes, a whole quarter of an hour earlier than Seto's—and the whole department's— best time. The nurses all fawned over him, to Seto's complete amusement. They always did love a quick surgeon.

"Now you've gone and stolen all my fans," the brunet grumbled half-heartedly.

"It is not a competition," Yami said, holding up the edges of the thread so Seto could cut it neatly with the scalpel.

"You've made it one, Motou," Seto replied in mock seriousness. "You dare break my record?!"

"It is not a competition," Yami repeated in bored tones, raising his eyebrows and pausing for a moment to stare sternly at him. He placed another stitch, wrist moving quickly and efficiently. "I wasn't aware they were timing us," he added tutting slightly behind the mask he was wearing.

"We time all procedures, Dr. Motou," the anesthesiologist commented, a look of adoration on her face. Yami gave her a smile behind the mask which he was sure extended to his eyes and thought of his colleagues back in Egypt who had similar looks on their faces when he finished a surgery quickly; anesthesiologists loved a quick surgeon more than nurses did. "It's hard to imagine that you say you don't have enough experience when it comes to lap-procedures."

"I really don't. Maybe it's the instruments' reliability that made this quick. I usually did this without proper field, or proper inflation or graspers. Having reliable equipment always helps," he explained, holding out the thread for Seto to cut. He pulled the knot to the side, arranging it next to its companions, running the mosquito forceps over them one final time to make sure they are nice and snug, then nodded to the nurse so she can start cleaning the patient and applying dressings to the incisions as he and Seto moved off their seats.

"You're too humble," Seto remarked once they stripped off the protective equipment back to their light-blue scrubs.

"I just don't like such petty contests," Yami explained. He had seen what making a competition out of medicine did to patients and doctors alike. The former grew too big of an ego and hence, the prior usually…well, they sometimes died as a result. And since he suffered too badly because of overly inflated egos of superiors and didn't want to inflict the same torment on his students, and because he didn't exactly want his patients to die, he always dismissed trivial competitions and unnecessary rivalries.

"Oh come on, no need to be so uptight about this…" Seto groaned as they both stopped in front of the elevators and he pressed the call button. Yami looked at him, obviously affronted and was about to protest that statement when the brunet added, "Take some credit, Yami, please…you were pretty impressive back in there. I've never seen more stable hands."

He blinked, pausing the tirade about to come out of his mouth. He looked at the elevator's doors as they slid open and walked in, wondering how to respond to that, since really, he was just human. He preened a little under the genuinely admiring expression in those lovely blue eyes. He ignored Seto, trying to will his slightly reddening ears to submission. He kept a neutral face on as the doors closed once more.

"Let's celebrate…have dinner, maybe?"

He chuckled a little, shaking his head in affectionate exasperation.

He jumped slightly when he found himself being gently pressed against the corner of the elevator by the heat of Seto's body which was now familiar, considering how many times his personal space has already been invaded by him. To his alarm, before he could react to the close proximity, the brunet's hand reached for the red emergency-stop button and tapped it.

"What are you doing?" he asked in panic, as the elevator came to a surprisingly gentle halt. He didn't do very well in closed spaces.

He turned to look up at Seto who was smiling predatorily down at him. He was alarmed at their closeness. He could see every detail of Seto's face so up close. His skin was so, so white, it looked like snow that he once saw falling in Switzerland when he was visiting for a general surgery conference. It was so perfect from this close angle, he thought it was a little unfair for someone to have such faultless complexion. He swallowed, flushing bright red and unable to stop himself from doing so.

"This is just very inappropriate, Dr. Kaiba…" he managed to say, eternally grateful it did not come out hoarse, or as a squeak. Perhaps it was because the statement was so practiced, it came out so easily.

"Call me Seto and we'll see about getting out of here," Seto replied, leaning even closer. He rested his arm on the elevator's wall beside Yami, bending a little.

Yami swallowed with difficulty. He couldn't take his eyes off the handsome features so close to him. He was human, oh God, he was very human and a saint couldn't stay unresponsive with such gorgeousness so close by.

"This…This is ridiculous," this time, to his mortification, his voice came out hoarse. "Please, this is very improper," he tried again, pressing himself tightly against the wall and looking aside, trying with all his might not to stare at the long, long beautiful white expanse that was nothing but a stunning specimen of neck muscles.

It was how he first realized he enjoyed male company… he could spend hours and hours simply staring at the perfection that was a male neck…that gorgeous sternomastoid, stretching from the base of a strong jawline, down and across to the bony prominence of a flawlessly-shaped clavicle; watching every little detail until he could see the wavy thrill of a strong jugular pulsing. And Seto's was just so attractive, he wanted to do nothing else but worship that glorious stretch of strong muscle and smooth skin forever and ever…

Oh he really was practicing utmost lengths of self control.

"I don't mind staying like this all day long," Seto chuckled and Yami quickly closed his eyes at hearing the sexy rumble.

He took a deep breath, "Seto…please step aside and let the elevator carry on?"

There was momentary silence in the small enclosed space. Yami was afraid that his heartbeat was loud enough for the brunet to hear, with how loud it was beating in his chest, in his ears.

"Your accent just turns me on," was the response he got, accompanied by long, slender fingers hooking under his chin to turn his head up. He opened his eyes to look into those mesmerizingly handsome features.

He swallowed again, holding his breath as he looked into eyes whose pupils were blown very wide, that only very thin rims of clear cerulean irises surrounded them. "I really don't have an accent…"

The soft-looking, pale pink lips were just so close now, Yami could see the small, thin lines on them. "You really do…" was whispered from them, now mere millimeters away from his. He let out the breath he had been holding, eyes sliding shut once again at the exact same moment they touched his own mouth with gentleness that was entirely unexpected but not at all unwelcome.

His rational thinking shut down effectively and soon, he relaxed just a bit, letting his hand rise, resting on the brunet's shoulder as they kissed, those pink, petal-like lips caressing his own with ease and gentleness, as if they always belonged there.

Yami was not even trying to protest, succumbing to the gentle touches he never knew he craved so much. It had been so long since someone touched him like this. He never knew how much he had missed it. He was hyperaware of everything suddenly. The gentle press of fingers on his chin, tilting his head up towards Seto's lips' expert attentions. The brunet's other hand left its position from the elevator's wall to slide to the back of his head. He just remembered that he did not take off the disposable surgery cap only as Seto's fingers pulled it off. He tilted his head slightly, his lips parting in a small gasp, letting their lips dance shyly together in this tender caress. The brunet's hand left his chin, rising to the side of his face, the long fingers extending to bury themselves in his dark locks, the soft pads gently pressing onto his scalp very lightly.

Yami wasn't sure of what was going on. Maybe that was why he was letting this happen. It was an almost alien experience to him. Because really, compared to what he had before, he wasn't so sure if he could call this a kiss. It was so, so tender. He expected Seto to bury his fingers in his hair and tug, but he didn't. He expected an uncomfortable position, painful pressure on a wrist…at least a tongue fighting and forcing an entry.

However, he was amazed when the brunet pulled back, ending the contact with a gentle caress to the side of his mouth. The hand on the back of his head was now on his shoulder, the other caressing his hair very, very gently. His eyes flew open in shock and looked up at the brunet, disbelieving that that was it. No other demands.

"You're so beautiful…" it was a small whisper. It was all Seto said.

Small, low and genuine in such a raw, unbelievable way.

It jolted him back to reality.

The word, the tone used, the entire setting… it was too much. The ease with which he let himself relax into the brunet's arms evaporated, leaving behind the suffocating tension of the small space's walls closing in on him and the thunderous booming of his heart in his ears, its intensity making him sick and dizzy.

He straightened, gently, but firmly, pushing at Seto's larger frame. He took a deep breath and bravely held the blue gaze with his. "This can't happen…"

"It just did…" Seto groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation. "What the hell is the matter now? You were doing great just a few moments ago!"

"I can't," he simply stated. "We're co-workers. It will complicate things."

"Which one is it?" Seto asked, staring hard into his eyes.

"I'm sorry?"

"Which one is it? We are co-workers…or you can't?"

Yami paused. Then looked away.

Silence hung heavy, suffocating over them for a while, then Seto spoke again, breaking it. "If it's because we are coworkers and you have some weird rule about dating colleagues then I won't press this anymore. But if it is because you can't… I will persuade you, Yami…" he was so cocky, so sure of himself as he uttered those words, pressing on the emergency button again, allowing the elevator to continue its journey.

Yami looked at him in silence, unable to come to terms with how he felt about the certainty Seto spoke with. He couldn't even decide what it was he was so hesitant about and couldn't answer him.

"But either way, I promise I will not do anything you don't want me to. You can be sure of that."

Yami took a deep breath, not realizing how much he needed the air until now. He sighed it out slowly, trying to exercise relaxation techniques and hoarsely half-whispered, "I don't like closed spaces. No more elevators please."

"Good to know…next time, let's pick somewhere more open," Seto agreed amicably.

"There will be no next time," Yami declared, glad that his voice was back under control.

The doors slid open and he stepped outside, hoping whatever happened inside the elevator stayed there and didn't cause more awkwardness than strictly necessary because there was nothing more he hated than lack of coordination and cohesiveness between himself and his coworkers. There was nothing for it now, he decided as he stood at the nurse station in the post-anesthesia care unit. He just had to hope for the best.

Seto stood beside him silently for a while as he went over their patient's file and carefully recording his recommendations after discharge, until the nurse left them alone for a moment to prepare the next patient up for surgery.

Yami froze when he felt him leaning closer, as if reaching for that patient's file, but actually covered Yami's hand with his larger one. He gave it a small squeeze, making Yami blink and stare up at him in puzzlement.

"You really are beautiful…" he said quietly.

And he walked away before Yami could reply.

It brought back all the reasons why he refused any new relationships. He stood revising them to himself, trying to pick one to go with it to try and convince himself to put an end once and for all to all of this.

It wasn't that he had no time now, so he couldn't really use that as an excuse. He had plenty of time now. He had two whole days off to himself each week as well as the afternoons and evenings of days when he had only clinic hours or short operation lists.

It also wasn't because he wasn't interested. He was very interested.

He could, however, use the excuse of this turning into a disaster eventually. After all, he had been warned that Seto Kaiba was obviously a playboy. He did not really feel like letting himself get used then discarded. He wasn't exactly the sappy, needy, let's-get-married-now type. But, he needed more than a one night stand.

Not only that… there was something else as well that perhaps confirmed Mai's warning that he could be next in line, added to the list of the brunet's conquests. He just couldn't see why else Seto was interested.

He stood in front of the mirror of the bathroom attached to the doctors' locker rooms and stared at his reflection silently, thoughtfully.

He had never considered himself on the extremes of modern beauty scales nowadays. He wasn't an ogre, but he wasn't exactly a stunner. He was not feeding on low self-esteem, nor was he being humble. His mixed heritage didn't contribute to anything except making him look outlandish wherever he went. He had inherited his father's hair and his slim, short stature. From his mother, he got his golden-brown skin, the almond shape of her eyes and the wine-colored lips. His eye color caused him a lot of trouble in school as a child and he had no idea who to blame for their strange, blood-red color that inspired fear in other children and cautiousness in adults.

His brother, Yugi, had taken the best parts from their parents. He had taken only their mother's nose and mouth, but from their father, he got the hair, the slim figure, his shockingly white complexion and his eyes, which were strange—amethyst, hardly a common eye color—but didn't warrant the same shocked response as Yami's almost-red eyes did.

Not only was he unlucky when it came to inheriting looks from his parents, the years did their damage as well. They left his face more drawn, eyes withered and his general appearance just more…tired than anyone else his age. It did not help that he had been a medical student in Egypt; a third world country, many miserable cases not just because of financial states and the patients' inability to pay for better medical services, but also because of ignorance, neglect and complete wretchedness. He knew he looked way older than his years. He had noticed that when he had been in his fourth year of school. He did not get attached to patients, no, but with each new gloomy case, every amputated limb that could have been salvaged by better education, every life lost due to lack of resources… they all left a mark on him that manifested as worry lines, dark bags under bloodshot eyes…

Generally speaking, there was nothing too special about his plain, bare features.

Seto however…

He sighed, shaking his head and wondering what a super-model like Seto could see in him except another conquest to add to a list. It must be some sick satisfaction or an urge to entertain himself and Yami was not going to succumb to this or be part of it.

To be completely honest with himself, it was sheer power of will holding him together in the face of the Seto's advances.

Yes, this will most definitely end in a disaster, he decided, looking away from the mirror as he splashed his face with some water, trying to freshen up.

He still had two more hours to go in this shift and he was feeling too tired. He offered to fill in for Jonouchi who said he needed to take a day. The blond looked genuinely upset, worry and distress carving lines onto his face that usually had a smile plastered on it that Yami just had to do something to help. Jonouchi protested, pointing out that he had a twelve hour shift after, but Yami waved him off, telling him that a twenty-four hour shift was a walk in the park compared to days and days he used to spend during his early residency days.

Yami had insisted, confident he would be able to pull it off. But maybe, just maybe he was getting a bit too old for this.

He dried his face on some paper towels and walked out towards the nurse's station to check for new consultations in the emergency department. He found one, so he took the file and walked briskly towards the observation room.

He found Seto standing beside the patient. An elderly woman, with a nasogastric tube emerging from her right nostril. He greeted her pleasantly, quickly noting the sparse hair, the prominent facial bones and the central line inserted into her neck, and coming to the conclusion that this was a cancer patient.

"You're here already? The nurse didn't tell me you were answering the consultation," he murmured to Seto with a tired smile, standing beside him.

"You should go home," Seto replied. He was emptying a bottle of gastrografin into a two-liter bottle of distilled water.

Yami grabbed a 60cm syringe with a coned tip and grabbed a pair of latex gloves, "It's just two hours left to the end of the shift…" he reassured. "What've we got?"

"Fifty year old female, history of gastric carcinoma presenting with vomiting and abdominal pain of one day duration," Seto summarized, recapping the bottle and mixing the dye with the water.

"Oncology patient?"

Seto nodded, confirming his earlier conclusion and answering his question. "I can cover for you. Go home," he added.

"It's alright, really," he reassured, removing the collecting bag attached to the patient's nasogastric tube. "Obstruction?" he asked, stepping to stand beside him, giving him the syringe and taking the bottle from him to tilt it.

The brunet mhmm-ed in agreement, filling the syringe with the water-dye mixture and starting to inject it into the tube. They stood in comfortable silence, Seto filling the syringe and injecting and Yami standing to assist him. When half the bottle was gone, Seto stepped back and called the ward assistant, asking him to transfer the patient to the CT.

"Jonouchi could have gotten someone else who didn't have another 12 hour shift after his, to fill in," Seto said as they walked side by side towards the radiology center attached to the emergency department.

"Seriously, just let it go, I'm glad I could help," Yami told him and it was obvious the brunet wasn't convinced, but seemed to let the matter settle.

They stayed in silence until they reached the CT room. They positioned the patient on the table, explained to her what was going to happen and that she was to remain calm, then retreated into the radiation protection room. Yami sank into the comfortable chair gratefully and leaned forward, resting his head on the table in front of the computers and closed his eyes, listening to Seto's smooth soothing voice give instructions to the patient over the intercom.

"Did Jonouchi say something to you? He sounded upset. Is Mai alright?" he asked in low tones.

Seto was silent for a few moments. He turned his head to stare up at him from where his head was resting. There was a slightly troubled look in his blue eyes. Yami was about to tell him to forget about it, if he couldn't answer, but he spoke casually, "They're both fine. Mai just has an appointment with a physical therapist."

Yami blinked, "Is she okay?"

"Really, she's fine. An old injury," Seto explained.

Yami wanted to ask more. What old injury? She looked just fine when he saw her. He was genuinely worried but he knew better than to pry. If he was meant to know, then he would know. He wasn't going to be nosey or if gossip was involved, then he wouldn't like to bring it up. He let the matter go and turned his head once more to bury it in the comforting darkness of his arms and closed his eyes.

He was just going to rest them a little bit…

He should have known better, he decided as he suddenly jerked awake, realizing he had fallen asleep when someone's hand gently stroked his shoulder to try to wake him up. He sat up straight, startled and a bit embarrassed at getting caught sleeping on shift. He looked around him, finding that he was still in the CT room and that Seto was the one waking him up.

"Come on," the brunet gently said, standing beside the chair. "The shift's over, let's go home."

"Why didn't you wake me?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and getting up, checking his watch to confirm that yes, it was fifteen minutes past eight in the evening.

"We didn't get any more patients," Seto explained. He held out Yami's backpack. "Here I got you your things."

"Thanks. Was it an obstruction?"

"No. The gastric outlet was patent and the dye reached the duodenum," Seto shook his head. "The oncology department took over. The chemo is causing it."

"Oh, so it wasn't even our case," he asked, yawning in the middle of sentence. Seto laughed at him. "Very funny, very mature…" he mumbled, making a face up at him.

"I should drive you home," the brunet suggested.

"No thanks, I can drive myself," Yami declined, starting fishing for his keys as usual in the main pocket of his backpack.

"You're half asleep. For the general safety of the population of Domino City, let me drive you home," Seto argued.

Yami sighed. He was too sleepy for this. "And who will drive my car?"

"I will."

"And who will drive your car?" Yami countered back, his tone getting a bit heated as Seto's stubbornness annoyed him further, so did his inability to find those. Damned. Keys!

"I can send Isono for it!"

"Who the hell's Isono?" he exclaimed in exasperation, lowering the backpack and pausing to stare up at the brunet…

"My driver," Seto answered, taking the bag from him. They were standing in the middle of hospital's garage by now. To his complete shock, Seto simply placed his hand inside the overly-full bag, rustled around for exactly two seconds, and his hand reemerged, carrying the illusive keys with him.

"You have a driver?" Yami asked, determined not to show how impressed he was by the brunet's superpowers, reaching to grab they keys from him. Maybe he was Magneto in another life.

"Yes, I do…in fact, I also have two limos…I can call one now to take us to dinner maybe, then we'll drive you home."

"Why do you have a limo?" Yami asked, ignoring everything else and wondering just how much money the brunet was making to own two limos. He didn't realize he had stopped walking again as he stared up at Seto again.

"I have two…" Seto corrected, placing a hand in the crook of his elbow to gently nudge him into moving again. "Let's take a ride in the black one. I like it better than the white one; recently made sure to stock it up with a bottle of fantastic vintage red wine you will just love to try…"

Yami stopped again. "I am not going anywhere except home, in my own car that I will drive by myself." He gently shook Seto's hand off continuing his way towards the car. "I am not drunk. I just napped a bit. I don't understand why you didn't wake me."

"You needed some shut-eye. I left you to it."

Finally, they reached his car and Yami smiled up at him, "Really, I will sleep at home. Wake me up next time. I'm a big boy, I've pulled all nighters before."

Seto smiled back, leaning against the car's body, "Have dinner with me."

"I need to go home and go to bed," he replied without a blink. "You do realize that you've rarely missed a chance to corner me next to my car, don't you?"

"Let's go to bed." Seto suggested, ignoring the previous remark, a lewd expression on his face that made Yami laugh.

"I sleep alone," he answered. "And hog all the covers."

Seto chuckled, pushing back, letting him get into the car.

He could have driven away without further comment. But it just didn't feel right. And so, after buckling his seatbelt, he looked at the brunet from the open window and said, "Goodnight, Seto…"

Tbc…