A/N: Hello, everyone. I just thought I'd drop in to add some warnings for mentions of anxiety attacks and poor mental health, in general. If the subject triggers any unpleasant memories or experiences, do skip the chapter please. Much love to all the readers, old ones and new. *mwah*
Bows of Promise
Chapter 6
It was a genius idea.
He didn't think it through, though. Didn't think of its implications, what impression it would leave on everyone else witnessing what was happening, what repercussions it would have later on. But it really was a genius idea that was going to help them avoid a whole big bunch of problems with a senior staff member and he didn't care about anything right now except what was happening within his own hands at the moment.
He stood next to the raised operating table. The patient was at a forty-five degree angle, almost half-sitting. There was a nasogastric tube coming out of his left nostril, two IV cannulae inserted, one delivering saline into his body and the other having their blond anesthesiologist standing beside it with the syringe of milky-white propofol poised, injecting it into the bloodstream.
He waited patiently while the patient was pulled under with the effect of the anesthesia. Rafael called him once, twice and when he didn't answer on the third time, he inserted the endotracheal tube, connecting it to the oxygen supply and gave them a thumbs up to go ahead with their own work.
Yami glanced behind him, meeting reassuring blue eyes with his own crimson ones. He took a deep breath and placed his gloved hands on the patient's chest, identifying anatomical landmarks, counting the ribs and seeking the fifth and sixth ones, then palpating for the xiphoid process. Working quickly, he cleaned the area where he would work, placed the sterile drapes to delineate the site of surgery, being careful not to dislodge the ECG leads.
Feeling Seto stepping behind him as he readied himself to start, he forced himself to relax, allowing his taller colleague's arms to wrap around him, gloved hands covering his own, so that, technically, it was Yami who was carrying out the procedure, not Seto. Allowing their motions to become one, they made a small incision in the skin to puncture it, then reached for the spinal needle, attaching a large, 60ml syringe with saline to it and began advancing it into the patient's body, upwards, towards his left shoulder.
Their motions were perfectly in sync. Yami had seen this done only once and he had quickly told Seto exactly what he had seen at that time and the brunet had informed him that it was basically the same thing they did here in emergent pericardiocentesis, with only minor changes that he made sure to point out as they scrubbed up next to each other quickly.
Yami knew the anatomy of the region perfectly and was a bit worried that he and Seto's approximation of this patient's anatomy would be off, but he was so wrong. The needle was pushed, their hands injecting the saline periodically to make sure that the pathway towards the heart was patent.
Seto's long fingers were splayed along the patient's right intercostal margin in the same fanning shape as Yami's own long fingers, his thumb and forefinger resting lightly along Yami's as he stabilized the angle of the needle at forty-five degrees with the patient's abdomen. His other hand was holding the portable ultrasound's probe.
Their eyes were fixed simultaneously on the screen of the small device. With synchrony that had the operating theater holding their breath in awe, he and Seto took turns. One of them would look at the ultrasound's screen, while the other observed the ECG trace on the anesthesia monitor.
The observation room held most of their junior residents. Ryuji was also standing with them, watching with one hand placed over his mouth, concentration on his sharp features and Honda stood next to him, mirroring the expression in the ER resident's green eyes. Rafael had stepped back from his position near the patient's head to watch them, his electric blue eyes shifting between them and the ECG trace.
Yami felt Seto's hand tighten very gently around his and immediately he paused, eyes fixed on the ECG trace. "There it is," the brunet whispered to him, not needing to say more than that for Yami to understand. There was an obvious rise in the ST-segment on the trace and Yami held his breath a little and started withdrawing the syringe back slightly, while applying negative pressure by pulling on the plunger.
Immediately, very bright red fluid was pulled back into the syringe and Yami quickly kept up the negative pressure until the entire 60ml syringe was filled with blood. In a blink, Seto was replacing it with a new syringe. They continued this while gently withdrawing the needle out as more fluid was aspirated, until no more fluid could be drawn and a slight rise in ST-segment could be seen.
They removed the spinal needle after confirming that the fluid collection around the heart decreased, the heart regaining its normal function on the screen of both the ultrasound and the ECG monitor.
Yami took a deep breath and found his body, almost imperceptibly, leaning back into Seto's. He closed his eyes in relief, relishing the warmth and solidness behind him, feeling the adrenaline that was rushing through his body starting to leave it ever-so-slightly with the immediate threat to the patient's life removed and wanting nothing more at the moment than to appreciate the absolutely amazing way in which they both worked in tandem.
It wasn't something he had done since his house-officer year in college. His senior resident had been standing in the exact same way Seto had been standing as he taught him for the first time how to carry out a simple appendectomy. It had been the first time for him to scrub up, the first time to hold a scalpel and the first time anyone had stood so close to him. He had held his hand and showed him how deep he should dig the scalpel in, how smoothly his motions must be.
But this was different. Seto was different.
He looked up to stare at his colleague. He found Seto staring back at him, an unreadable expression in blue eyes whose color was barely discernible with how widely his pupils were blown, despite the very bright lights of the room. They held each other's gaze for a few moments, until they were interrupted by the nurse, who was handing Seto the scalpel so he could make the incision to start the laparotomy, now that the drainage of blood from around the heart was over and done with.
They put their eyes on the surgery at hand. He could recognize a great surgeon anywhere and Seto was the very best he had seen at work. Yami admired the way Seto's hands worked. The surgical tools seemed to be an extension of his body. His moves measured, not a single one out of place or excessive to what was needed. They were almost sensual, with how smooth and steady they were, as if he was an artist painting, or a dancer performing. It was difficult to imagine that he didn't work a lot of laparotomies, that he didn't have the experience Yami had on this matter.
They worked in silence, Yami suctioning excess blood, holding clamps and applying the cautery where Seto instructed him to. The bleeding was from lacerations to both the liver and the spleen. They repaired the liver laceration first then turned their attention to the spleen.
"Tada…" Seto remarked from behind his mask and Yami grinned.
"What?" he asked, peering over a clamp that was obscuring the view. He laughed loudly when he saw the brunet applying an artery clamp to the splenic artery.
"Found it!" Seto teased.
"Good job," Yami remarked, handing him the non-absorbable suture thread so he could start ligating the artery. He raised an eyebrow challengingly, "Let's see if you find it this quickly next time. It might be beginner's luck."
The nurse and Rafael both laughed. The blond, broad anesthesiologist shook his head, "You've gone and made a challenge out of it, Motou… you better be ready to deal with the consequences of that."
Seto looked up and towards the young man, "Well said, Rafael." Then he turned to Yami. "What ever happened to 'it is not a competition'?"
Yami narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. "I changed my mind," he teased, cutting the surgical thread that Seto was holding out to him. "I pride myself on being the very best where anatomy is concerned. Do not even try toppling me over, Kaiba. I won't let you."
"I will thoroughly enjoy doing so, Motou," Seto promised and Yami chuckled softly.
They kept working in amiable silence, as Seto finished removing the spleen, made sure that there was no other source of bleeding and started to close the open abdomen. Their good mood was destroyed, however, when the doors to the OR were slammed open with too much force for it to be normal. Yami made sure that his hold on the mosquito forceps was firm and looked over Seto's shoulder at who it was who just barged into the room with such violence.
To his annoyance and slight alarm, Pegasus stood glaring at the back of Seto's head. He was wearing the blue scrubs, his hair disappearing beneath the disposable surgery cap but he didn't wear a mask or any other protective gear. He looked livid and with his very large, very broad frame, he looked more intimidating than Yami was willing to admit even to himself.
"Just what do you think you are doing, Kaiba-boy?"
The question came in the usual drawl that made Yami's skin crawl and he looked back at Seto, whose eyes hardened ever-so-slightly beneath the protective goggles. Yami didn't blame him. The man was very annoying. Against his will, he felt like he was once again in his third year, awaiting the exam and couldn't help the way his heart raced.
"What does it look like I am doing, Dr. Crawford…? Are you alright?" Seto's reply was cold. His words were calm and polite.
"Didn't I explicitly ask that Dr. Motou carry out the laparotomy?" he snapped, the drawl in his voice disappearing, further proving that it was an intentional, voluntary thing the white-haired man did just to unnerve people.
Seto smirked lightly, "I thought that meant the laparotomy before this one." Yami couldn't react when the brunet glanced up briefly to give him a knowing little smirk and winked ever-so-slightly at him.
"No, I meant all laparotomies, Kaiba…" the older man seethed.
"Why?" Seto asked without pausing his work.
"Because I said so."
Seto straightened and looked behind his shoulder, "You can't do that, Dr. Crawford. There is nothing on my work contract that states that I am not allowed to carry out certain surgeries just because a superior feels like it." He then turned back to the surgery, adding, "I am pretty sure nothing on your work contract gives you the authority to do that, either."
Yami took a fast glance at the quickly reddening features of the white-haired man behind him. He felt his anxiety rising at what was going on around him but he couldn't do anything about it. He kept his eyes down on the bloody abdominal cavity as the silence persisted for a few more moments in the operating room.
"Who did the pericardiocentesis?"
Crawford obviously was trying to pick a fight in any way he could. Yami resisted the urge cringe.
"I did," he stated, voice calm, not betraying the panic rising in him and just trying to avoid the problems about to come up if Pegasus thought Seto did it.
"Dr. Katsuya said you didn't do it before, Dr. Motou," Pegasus insisted, raising one eyebrow challengingly.
Yami looked up to meet the livid hazel gaze from over Seto's shoulder, "Today was my first attempt. It was quite successful, you should have been watching, Dr. Crawford."
"Did you just attempt a life-saving procedure, on a shocked patient, for the first time?" Pegasus snapped, his voice rising an octave with every statement. He really was trying to pick a fight.
Yami's heart was thudding too loudly in his ears, almost drowning out an automatic reply that he had no idea how it came out so clear and logical, "This is a teaching hospital, Dr. Crawford. I am an experienced trauma surgeon and I see no reason why I should not take a first attempt at such a skill, supervised…"
"And who exactly supervised this?" Pegasus asked, eyes narrowing skeptically.
"Dr. Kaiba was quite a useful instructor. The procedure went very smoo…" Yami was replying when he was interrupted.
"I explicitly told you to wait for the cardiothoracic surgeon and that Kaiba wasn't to be involved in this. I will not tolerate this disrespect for seniority from the both of you!" he was outright yelling now. Yami could feel his breath catching, too difficult to draw and chest too tight all of a sudden.
At that, Seto spoke again, his voice still calm and steady, "Technically, you told Dr. Katsuya that Yami could do it and if he couldn't, then we are to wait for the cardiothoracic surgeon. And he did it, quite successfully, if I might add. I thought this was an educational institute and nothing prevents Dr. Motou from wanting to learn a new skill. I don't see how it counts as disrespecting seniority."
Yami was getting distracted, gradually his attention sliding away from the bickering duo. His heart rate was racing at the tension that was palpable in the room. He didn't work well under this kind of tension. He didn't like people yelling for such trivial matters. He did not like troubles at work that didn't concern patients. An unexpected hemorrhage, plummeting blood pressure, a patient arresting on the table; those were all stresses he could deal with smoothly. A senior staff member yelling and being a complete ass for absolutely no reason whatsoever…that brought back horrible times that he would rather leave behind and triggered panic that he frankly was rubbish at dealing with.
His usually dexterous hands froze and there was nothing he could do about it. He was aware that he had left everything related to the surgery and was just staring behind Seto's back at the senior staff member who was yelling at them both for trying to save this patient's life. He didn't realize that he had zoned out for a while, mind racing over what was happening and memories rushing unwanted back to him.
He was only jerked back to reality with Seto's voice sternly calling him back and a gloved hand covered his own. He gasped in a breath softly, not realizing he had been holding it. He was hyperventilating now. He took a step back, away from the table. The room was completely silent, everyone's eyes fixed on him and he knew if he spent one more moment in the room, he would have to face the embarrassment of people witnessing another attack, much worse than the one he just had.
He deposited the pair of scissors he had been cutting the suture thread with on the table. It was the right thing to do. To carry on the surgery now, even if they had closing the incision left, would be very careless. He took off his bloodied sterile gloves and, since his hands were shaking too badly and he couldn't breathe properly, he didn't bother undoing the knot of his disposable gown to take it off, simply ripped it off and throwing it on the floor of the OR, then rushing out of the room without looking back.
It was only when he was standing shivering in the sharp bite of the cold autumn air that he could gasp in the breaths he couldn't take back inside. He stood facing the wall of the building, tucked in the privacy of the side of the hospital as he tried –and failed—to regulate his breathing. He wanted to recall all the relaxation exercises he knew by heart and practiced many times before, but it seemed so long ago since something like this happened and he just couldn't remember where to start.
Cold sweat beaded on his brow, dampening his hair and increasing his agitation. He gasped out loud, desperate for the satisfaction of normal, regular breaths and unable to calm down enough to reach that state of normal relaxation. It had been so long since something like this happened, he thought to himself, unintentionally pressuring himself into trying harder to control his body but failing, hence falling into a vicious cycle that he was unable to end.
He didn't know how much time passed since he exited the building, but his head was now spinning with the overload of oxygen in his blood from too many breaths that his body didn't utilize and his ears were roaring with an imaginary sound that was just too loud. It was a familiar awful feeling that he thought he was long past. He knew the dizziness would soon become more cold sweat breaking on the rest of his body but he wouldn't feel it because heat would envelop the back of his neck and travel down his spine. Then a darkness would come that thankfully stayed his uneven, rapid heartbeat, from which he would return bruised and aching, but mercifully calmer and able to take in air like normal people. He was just hoping that that darkness came quickly, because the feeling of drowning while so dry was one of the worst he ever went through, especially with how unexpected it was.
However, this time was different.
The roaring sound that deafened him to anything other than the sound of his pants and his heartbeat masked the sound of footsteps approaching. He wasn't aware of someone close by except when a broad hand was placed on his shoulder, an arm wrapping around his body to turn him around. He wasn't aware of anything right now except the solidity of the warmth next to him and he took advantage of it, leaning his weight against it and beginning to slide to the ground softly. The beautiful, calming warmth and the faint scent of sandalwood that reassured him that whoever was behind him meant him no ill-intention, followed him down to the ground and he felt something rough placed on his mouth and nose.
A burst of enlightenment appeared in his panic riddled mind. Instinctively, depending on intuition developed from many times of doing this many years ago, his hand rose, holding the paper bag with desperation to his mouth and nose, breathing into it.
He had taken just five breaths when he felt the broad hand covering his own, firmly forcing him to lower the bag. He would have protested if he could. He was still hyperventilating. A few seconds passed then the paper bag was raised once more and he held onto it as if for dear life. The cycle repeated for a few more times when he started to finally calm down.
Slowly, he was becoming more and more aware of his surroundings. He was seated on the concrete ground, propped up against the wall of the building, his legs tucked to one side beneath him and growing dead quickly. He pulled them from under him, bending one of his knees and letting his other leg stretch out in front of him. His body was aching dully. The heat that had started spreading through him before dissipated, leaving him frozen underneath the sheen of cold sweat. His hair was stuck to his forehead, drying. He was wearing just the pair of scrubs he had on inside in the warmed interior of the hospital and when he rushed out, he hadn't bothered grabbing a jacket or anything and was really feeling the crisp autumn wind biting at him ruthlessly.
He shivered, as the frantic need for air dissipated and he became more and more aware of how cold he was. He closed his eyes, still clutching the paper bag close to his chest as his breathing exercises and tips all came back to him and he started to regulate it now that he calmed down.
The body next to him shifted closer, the arm around him tucking him nearer and he has never felt more grateful. He allowed himself to lean his head on the familiar, impossibly broad shoulder that could belong to only one person and he continued nursing his defective breathing with the bag until he was sure that he was not going to fall into the blackness he had previously anticipated. His hand fell beside him, holding the crumpled bag, but otherwise, he didn't raise his head from where it was propped against Seto. He didn't want to move away from the warmth. He also didn't want the confrontation that was coming next to take place yet. He knew Seto was going to make it happen, so he didn't raise his head, wanting to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.
He felt the muscles beneath him shift and his heart raced just a tiny bit as he realized that this was it, now.
However, when Seto nudged him slightly, it was not to ask what had happened. He didn't pester him with questions, didn't demand, didn't force anything. He simply placed a hand on his upper arm, saying, "C'mon, Yami. Jonouchi told us to go home for today. Let's get our things and leave."
Gently, he was helped up to his feet. He took a few moments to stabilize himself on his own feet without support. He took one final deep breath and nodded mutely, walking side by side with Seto back inside the hospital building. He was about to send himself into another fit, his frenzied mind making him imagine every single person they met on the way to their lockers staring at him like they just witnessed what just happened, in the OR and outside the building. He forced himself to relax and continue the same pattern of breathing.
They stood in front of the elevators waiting silently. The ding signifying its arrival made itself known over the sound of his thoughts and he walked in, turning and leaning against the back of the elevator and closing his eyes. He stayed that way until he felt Seto's hand reaching for his and squeezing it slightly.
Yami opened his eyes and looked up at him to finally meet the blue eyes that stared down at him. There was panic in them, concern and just a hint of something else that Yami couldn't determine at the moment. He looked away, staring ahead at his distorted reflection of the closed elevator doors. "I'm fine. Sorry I worried you," he said, his voice coming out strangely level and normal.
Seto didn't reply. But he kept holding his hand until the elevator reached the third floor where the surgery department was located, as well as their offices and lockers. He let go when the doors opened but stayed close as they walked to the lockers.
He gathered his things silently, taking off the surgical cap and throwing it in the trash. He was painfully aware of Seto's eyes on him every once in a while and he studiously tried to ignore them as much as he could. He was trying to quickly put his things back in his backpack so he could just leave and end this frankly shit day. He zipped the bag closed and swung it on his shoulder, ready to flee.
"Wait," Seto asked him and he felt like groaning, but knew it would be completely unacceptable for him to ignore the brunet. He stopped by the door, expecting some pep talk or something to make him uncomfortable. It was no wonder he jumped slightly when he felt Seto holding his upper arm and turning him around, then placed a white, woolen knit scarf around his neck and pulling the hood of the jacket he was wearing up to cover his multi-colored hair. "You'll catch a cold," the brunet remarked and Yami was too stunned to say anything.
It was why he didn't do anything when Seto's large hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him out of the locker room and towards the elevators once more. He kept walking numbly, Seto's hand now just resting gently in the crook of his elbow, guiding him. A small, niggling part within him was grateful that the brunet made sure not to drag him behind him like a lost kid or something. He didn't know if he had let go of his wrist and opted for the hand on his elbow on purpose, or if it was pure accident. He was just grateful.
He was dwelling on it until he realized he was standing in front of the passenger's seat of an unfamiliar car. An unfamiliar, very expensive, very sleek car that obviously didn't belong to him and if he kept slaving at work forever, he probably wouldn't be able to afford anyway. His eyebrows knit together in confusion for a few moments, then he realized what was going on when Seto opened the door for him.
"What the hell, Kaiba?! This is what you drive to work every day?" he asked, momentarily forgetting the events of the day in favor of eyeing the very lavish looking Cadillac. It was the kind of car he saw in movies and didn't believe even existed in real life.
Seto laughed. Yami was distracted by the sound that he found exceedingly pleasant to his ears.
"Just get in and I promise I'll let you drive it around when we're less strung up than we are today," he offered, pointing at the extremely sleek interior of the car.
Yami looked up at him. He wanted to say no, turn him down and head to his own car so he could go home and nurse himself back to something resembling normal again after what happened today. It was so difficult, though. He was too tired and he just didn't feel like arguing. Silently, he found himself getting inside the car, ignoring the voice of reason and ignoring the other trivial voice at the back of his mind, telling him that he was getting his car seat opened for him like some girl.
He sat silently in the seat, feeling out of place and his hands fiddled with the bag that he had placed on his lap. His face was buried up to his nose in Seto's glorious scent and he didn't know if it was car's scent that had its owner's fragrance stuck in it or if it was the scarf wrapped securely around his neck. He waited patiently, trying not to breathe in too deeply, until Seto got in as well.
They sat in absolute stillness for a few moments.
"Did you use your precious stapler?" Yami attempted weakly, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
Seto smiled and shook his head, "Honda scrubbed up and closed up the patient. He probably wanted to practice to one day break your time stitching up patients using subcut sutures."
Yami grinned lightly, a little bit nervously at that.
Silence enveloped them once again, until Seto placed the keys in their hole by the steering wheel.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"Well, I was going to drive you home," Seto replied, pausing slightly. Yami mentally slapped himself. "We can go somewhere else if you want."
"No…no," he said. "It's fine," he added as an afterthought.
"So where do you live?" Seto asked, bringing the car to a start that sounded more like a purr than the normal revving sound of the engines of any other car he'd ever been inside.
"Err…" he unintelligently started, jerking himself from the stupor of completely being in awe of a car. Seto was pulling out of the parking spot, driving towards the exit of the garage as he finally could string comprehensible sentences again. "It's a few blocks from the coffee shop. Take us there and I'll tell you which way to go."
They stayed in silence for a few minutes, until they stopped in a bit of traffic, waiting for a red light.
"Are you hungry?" Seto asked, breaking the silence.
The crackers and apple juice seemed like a lifetime ago. That, and the familiar ache that was spreading through his body after his little 'episode' was making the need for food worse. "Yeah," he replied.
"Would you like to go somewhere have dinner first?" Yami glanced sideways at him. "Really, just dinner and I won't tease you about it with Jonouchi later," the brunet quickly amended, smiling and looking back at him.
He wanted to say yes… but they were in scrubs that they both haven't bothered to change out of and smelled of latex and blood. That, and Yami was just too tired.
Regretfully, he said, "I am tired. I just want to go home." He could feel Seto's eyes on him so he too, had to do a bit of reassurance. "I really mean it," he said. It didn't feel enough. He sounded ungrateful to his own ears, as if he was being rude. "I… err… I think it's better not to go out tonight. I am tired, not trying to just be difficult or anyth…"
"Yami… Yami…" Seto interrupted his rant. He swallowed and looked at him. "It's okay…" he said, casting a glance towards him. "Mokuba used to have panic attacks when we were in the orphanage. I know the drill. Don't worry about it, okay? I really was just offering that we eat." Yami's heart, which he hadn't noticed had started to dangerously race once more, calmed considerably. "I'm hungry too," the brunet added as an afterthought and Yami smiled nervously as well.
"We can… We can order some pizza," he suggested, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Seto glanced at him again. "We'll order some pizza. Stay for dinner."
It was a spontaneous idea and he found himself trying to remember if he had something or the other strewn messily somewhere at home, thanking every deity he knew that he had recently tidied up the house when Seto agreed.
They spent the rest of the trip to his house in companionable silence, except for Yami's directions to his place. When they arrived, Yami unlocked the front door, walking in and holding it open for Seto. "Make yourself at home," he said with a little smile, hanging the keys on the hanger next to the door.
Seto walked in, glancing around him curiously. Yami let him be, depositing his backpack on the couch in the living room after switching on the lights. He took out his water bottle and the change of clothes he was supposed to change into before leaving the hospital and had another idea.
"Listen, if you have a change of clothes, why don't you take a shower and change while we wait for the pizza to get here?" he asked, looking up at Seto, who had been staring with interest at a picture of him and Yugi with their grandfather.
"Err… is that alright?" Seto asked.
"Yeah, yeah… we both smell like too much blood for it to be healthy," Yami said. He took Seto's hand, guiding him to the guest bathroom. "Go on, I'll get you some towels," he said, switching on the lights and letting his unexpected guest walk into the room.
He left him and headed for the cupboard in the hallway that held all the extra towels and blankets and all the other house textiles. He paused a second, about to grab one of the creamy-white towels, then changed his mind with the beginnings of a flush creeping up his neck and grabbed the dark blue set above it. It was a little, private treat to himself. He knew the blue would probably look so much better on Seto's perfectly milky skin than the white. He allowed himself the little pleasure of the mental image.
He just managed to get his flush under control when he knocked on the ajar bathroom door. He didn't expect it to swing open and reveal Seto in just the bottoms of his blue scrubs, with his upper body in all its glory bare to his eyes. And glorious it was, he thought to himself as his eyes devoured the perfection before him. Flawless skin he had only just imagined just moments ago with impossibly defined muscles rippling lazily beneath it. It wasn't so difficult to imagine the brunet swam for exercise, with how ridiculously broad his shoulders were, surrounding strong pectorals and tapering beautifully to a narrow waist. The distance between them was adorned with something out of a fashion magazine with the very clearly defined six pack fading into a delicious V that had him swallowing with difficulty.
Jerking himself out of the staring stupor he had passed into, he flushed in mortification and didn't even bother hiding it. He looked away, handing Seto the towel, stammering out, "S…Sorry… there you go. Let me know if you need anything else…"
Seto chuckled lightly and Yami's cheeks burned hotter with embarrassment. "It's okay, everything's good."
And he disappeared back inside, this time closing the door properly.
Yami fanned a hand in front of his face, trying to get rid of the flush that just wouldn't go away. He reprimanded himself for his complete lack of control as he headed to his room so he could grab a change of clothes and jump into the shower as well. It didn't matter that Seto's body was just too attractive, that if he wasn't already bisexual, he would have become so just seeing it. He adjusted the temperature to a cold one, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable stirring of desire making itself known at an inopportune time.
He finished showering quickly, dressed into a pair of comfortable sweatpants. He stood drying his hair before he put on his top, staring at his own reflection in the mirror critically. He sighed and pulled the long-sleeved t-shirt over the top of his head, loudly scolding himself, "Get real, Motou."
He walked out, finding that his guest was still in the bathroom. He went around, tidying little things that were out of place, folding the white scarf Seto gave him and placing it aside to give it to the brunet before he left and generally busying himself with trivial stuff, until Seto emerged from the bathroom, drying his brown hair and thankfully completely dressed in a pair of jeans and a white fine-knit, v-necked pullover.
Yami tried not to flush or stare at the gorgeous clavicles and the honestly beautiful neck.
"Did you order yet?" the brunet asked, thankfully distracting him from what promised to become an awkward moment.
"Err… no," Yami said, grabbing his cell phone. "I didn't know what toppings you liked… or if you actually eat normal portions like us, normal humans," he added the last part with a sideways smile.
"I eat a whole pizza by myself," Seto defensively said, taking a seat on the comfortable black leather sofa.
"See? That's not what normal humans eat," Yami grumbled, enviously eyeing his taller colleague's body.
Seto laughed and again, Yami found himself distracted by the very pleasing sound. "My offer still stands. Just as long as you get swimming briefs."
Yami shook his head, scrolling through his contacts for the pizza place's number. "What do you want on your pizza?"
"Just get me a pepperoni with stuffed crust. Tell him not to add any peppers."
Yami glanced up at him, "Who does that?"
"Apparently, every pizza place in Domino," Seto lazily replied, pulling his impossibly long legs to tuck them beneath him on the sofa. "I hope you don't mind," he added as an afterthought, sinking back into the insanely comfortable piece of furniture –Yami knew just how comfy it was—and generally relaxing.
"No, I don't," Yami reassured him. He got up and walked towards the hallway so he could call the pizza place and ordered. He made sure to stress that they didn't want any peppers on theirs, told the kid on the other end the address and was told that their order would arrive within half an hour to forty-five minutes. He hung up and returned to the living room.
Seto was looking down at his phone. He looked up when he reappeared, typing something in as Yami opened the curtains so they could have a view of the sea and switched it off as he took a place on the other end of the sofa, he too pulling his legs up, bending his knees and leaning them on the leather back of the sofa.
"Now that is a view I don't have at the Mansion," Seto remarked appreciatively, staring at the floor to ceiling window.
"Bastard… you live in a mansion and you still don't like it," Yami automatically bit back.
Seto looked at him with a smirk and he just giggled tiredly, he too sinking down and relaxing. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, enjoying the ease with which it came and went, unlike just an hour or so ago. He tried not to think about it, or about the utter embarrassment he brought himself by freezing up like some rookie with a patient's abdomen splayed open before him. He opened his eyes, staring at the far edge of the coffee table with a thoughtful look, trying to decipher what he will do since—with Pegasus witnessing the whole spectacle and the fact that he didn't exactly like him very much— he was most probably about to lose his job due to anxiety that he was just too weak to keep under control.
"Jonouchi gave us tomorrow off as well. We don't need to show up for the surgery list or clinic hours," Seto's voice broke through the cloud of self-criticism that hung in his mind. He shifted his eyes towards the brunet who smiled evilly, suggesting, "We can go out on a date tomorrow!"
Yami ignored the last bit.
"Are we getting fired?" he asked instead.
"Not you… maybe me," Seto told him with a chuckle. Yami raised an eyebrow. "Pegasus hates my guts, Yami."
"I'm sorry," he said immediately. It was Seto's turn to raise an eyebrow questioningly. "It was my idea to go ahead and do the procedure. I got us both into trouble and made things worse. I didn't mean for that to happen at a…"
He stopped when Seto straightened quickly and reached for him, placing a hand on his knee. "Yami, stop…" he sternly said. Yami bit back the rest of the mindless rant he was slipping into and shifted his eyes from the long-fingered, slender hand on his body to the concerned blue eyes. "Crawford has a problem with me. It doesn't matter what you did today and trust me, you haven't done anything wrong. Today's temper tantrum would have happened even if we left the patient to die like he wanted us to."
Yami held his eyes for a while, then looked away. He couldn't stand the look of concern anymore. It reminded him of today's earlier spectacle and his face burned with the humiliation of recalling it very clearly in his mind's eye.
"Jeez, Yami," Seto groaned. "Is that why you've frozen up and gone and given yourself a panic attack? Over goddamn Pegasus and his childishness?"
Yami's eyes flared in anger, "I didn't go and give myself a panic attack. In case you've never gone through a psychiatry round during school, I don't exactly get to choose when to have an attack. Spare me one more false misconception about what I go through."
The brunet sat back. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. Yami glared at him. "I am really sorry, that came out wrong. I know you didn't mean for that to happen. I just don't think Pegasus is important enough to cause such a reaction."
"Being one of the senior-most members of the department's staff makes him significantly important," Yami remarked dully. He paused, then burst out, unable to stop himself from reprimanding himself out loud, "And I just had to go and freeze up like some novice, as if I've never held a scalpel in my life!"
Seto shook his head, "I am more concerned by the attack you had outside the hospital, than I am about you freezing up during a surgery."
"What happens outside the OR is irrelevant," he dismissed.
"No, it's not irrelevant. Freezing up is not a problem…"
Yami snorted incredulously. "Whoever was present in the room will never trust me with a loop of prolene anymore… never mind a major trauma surgery."
"I don't think one time freezing up during a surgery when a madman is yelling would make people forget that you are the record holder of best time on a lap-procedure Yami," Seto joked. Yami half-heartedly gave a small sideways smile. "Pegasus knew this could happen. That's why he stood yelling in the middle of an OR, Yami."
"So basically I just walked right into what he wanted?" Yami shook his head, a disgusted look on his face.
"No, but right now, you are giving him what he wants, drowning in self pity like that," Seto replied, raising an eyebrow and his voice. Just a little bit to sound exasperated and quite frustrated, but not outright yelling or losing his natural unruffled and cool attitude.
He sat back and Yami looked away. They stayed silent, taking their breath after the really awkwardly-going discussion that was unavoidable after the day's events, yet so clearly unwanted by both of them. It was obvious Seto was, like him, not a fan of open, heartfelt conversations. But he also knew when they needed to take place.
"Crawford thinks that we will compete with him in the private work," Seto spoke once again. Yami shifted his eyes to him. "The little private clinics and hospitals. He thinks we will take his place. And we will, if we want to. But we don't. He doesn't know that, so he is trying his hardest to either get any one of the younger staff members fired, or harass them enough to leave work and move elsewhere. I was just with Jonouchi on the phone and he told me Pegasus was just trying to get him to fire you for freezing up."
Yami's heart sped. "So I am getting fired?" he asked miserably. After going through so much shit moving to Japan, too…
"No, you're not listening to me," Seto once again snapped in frustration. "I said, 'trying'. Jonouchi ripped him a new one, as a result. In fact, he will be reporting the yelling and complete abuse of power he is exercising over the younger members of the staff. I am not telling you this to make you fret over the possibility of losing your position, because you won't. What happened today is not how things are done here. I am telling you this because you need to know that since you aren't doing anything ethically or medically wrong, then you don't have to let a screaming, immature old man drive you into the state you were in today. We have your back as long as your aim is first and foremost, to do no harm…"
His words were firm, voice calm and eyes fixed on Yami's. There was nothing there but determination in the endless blue pools before him. he could do nothing but trust the words. He took a deep breath and nodded quickly.
"Alright?" Seto stressed.
Yami nodded again, "Yeah, yeah… okay."
The brunet nodded back. He too, sat back against the other arm of the sofa. The silence hung heavy and suffocating in the living room for a minute or so. Yami wanted to say something, but whenever he decided what exactly to say, he would hold back. The moment didn't seem right and what he wanted to say didn't sound right. He had a feeling Seto was going through the same dilemma.
Finally, the silence was broken.
"Mokuba used to be triggered by the sound of motorcycles on the street," Seto said. He was staring out of the window at the dark sea before them. "He was bullied in the orphanage when I wasn't with him. I still don't understand the connection between the panic attacks he had, the bullying he went through and the sound of motorcycles. I probably never will."
Yami didn't say anything. There was a distant look on the handsome features before him. There was something painful in the sight before him but he couldn't tear his eyes away. The privacy of what Seto was saying could not be tainted by looking away right now.
"I understand that the tension and yelling today may have triggered something that I don't know anything about. I just want you to know that it's alright. We've all had our moments and it doesn't make you any less brilliant at what you do, okay?"
Yami just stared at him. he couldn't do anything else. It was exactly what he needed to hear, especially from Seto. He'd had many, many panic attacks before. He was alone for most of them. Some people were witnesses to the rest. Many of them didn't help him because they didn't know what to do. The rest didn't help for entirely different, entirely heartless reasons. Only very few times that could be counted on the fingers of one hand, his brother was present for an attack and helped him out. Today, Seto had helped him out even though he had no obligation to do that. He left a surgery unfinished to come after him and was now sitting there have this awkward talk just to make him feel better.
"Yami, do you understand that?" Seto repeated, obviously determined to get an answer out of him.
Yami blinked once, twice… then looked away, feeling a highly-alarming, vaguely familiar feeling of flutters in his chest that promised so many things that he wasn't sure he was ready to deal with. It didn't help at all, when Seto leaned forward to reach for his hand, hold it and squeeze it gently, tugging slightly until he was forced to meet the blue eyes once again…
"Do you understand that, Yami?" he insisted.
He forced himself to reply. "Yes…" he whispered out. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes, I understand."
The brunet smiled and nodded, "Good… you're a bit dumb when it comes to such matters, it seems."
The flutter disappeared and he scowled, "Keep talking and I'll sock your pretty face, Kaiba."
At that exact moment, the doorbell rang. Yami got up to answer it, grabbing his wallet on the way and shaking his head when he heard Seto calling at his back, "So you do think I'm pretty!"
tbc…