Disclaimer: Though I put a lot of effort into this story, Yu-Gi-Oh! does not belong to me. *Tear*

"There's an edge within my voice

Helps me win when I should lose

We pick and choose our weapons carefully

Words are twisted like a fist

Behind our backs no slight-of-hand

No battle ever ended with a kiss"

~Ties that Bind, Pat Benatar

-Chapter 7-

No Battle Ever Ended with a Kiss

For the next few weeks, the little cat Alistair rescued from the restaurant dumpsters took up all of his time. He'd decided quite quickly that he wanted to name her Sewell after the author of Black Beauty. It would have shocked Valon and Rafael to see how maternal and soft their tightly wound teammate could be, but Alistair took much delight in nursing Sewell back to health.

She had received a warm reception from Trudy after Alistair had given her a bath (something Sewell hadn't appreciated at all and for which she'd rewarded Alistair with several nasty scratches), and he'd gone on his motorcycle to the local pet store to discuss what he might need for her and to buy some supplies and food.

By the time she'd been at the Kaiba mansion for three weeks, Sewell's sides had started to fill out and her coat had become glossy and soft . After taking her to a vet, Alistair was told that she was likely around two years old, had already been spayed but needed shots, and that the several lumpy scars on her back were most likely the result of having been hit with something and not having the wounds properly cared for.

Knowing that Sewell had come from a rough background made him feel even more attached to the dainty calico, and he rarely went anywhere without her. He often walked around the house with her in his arms or scampering after him, completely devoted to the human who had saved her.

At first, Mokuba had been excited about having a pet in the house, but when Sewell proved too skittish to play with, he bored of her. Alistair felt special to have earned her trust enough for her not to be wary of him.

For his part, Seto took every opportunity to ridicule Alistair for his unconditional devotion to the cat, although deep down he was oddly jealous.

At night Sewell slept either on Alistair's pillow above his head, or under the covers when she felt so inclined, although sometimes she slept on the bed while he stuck with his makeshift sleeping space beneath it. Her presence helped alleviate his nightmares he found. When he did have them (which he still did, and more often than most people), she could sense his anguish and would lick his face until he woke up and then sleep on his pillow, her purring lulling him back into a more pleasant sleep. He also continued to dream, perhaps several times a week, about Kaiba. He abhorred these dreams because he by no accounts wanted to view Kaiba that way. He loathed the feeling that came over him whenever Kaiba was around. The whole situation was ridiculous and embarrassing, and he hoped that it would soon pass.

As PR had predicted, sales went up after Seto gave in and modeled for the clothing company. The ads ran in all the major fashion and dueling magazines, and were up on two billboards in downtown Domino.

Seto found the ads humiliating because for every single picture the photographer had insisted that an indecent amount of buttons on the dark blue shirt he was supposed to be modeling be undone, showing off the majority of his chest.

The photographer had requested the use of his office at KC headquarters as the backdrop to the shoot, and in the end, the ad that ran was a picture of him lounging in his monogrammed leather desk chair in front of one of his shelves of trophies, smirking and holding up his three Blue Eyes White Dragon cards. The tagline read: 'Dress like a Champion.'

Seto couldn't fathom why such a stupid photo of him modeling men's clothes would get a bunch of teenage girls to buy game systems, but apparently it did. Girls seemed to find him 'hot,' but if that was their justification for buying Kaiba Corp merchandise they were even more stupid than he'd thought. He shuddered to think of the ad being put on the walls of girls his brother's age when all he wanted was for it to disappear.

Just over a month and a half after Alistair had moved into the mansion, Seto was working on logistics in his home office when Mokuba knocked tentatively on the door before letting himself in.

"What is it, Mokuba?" Seto asked when instead of speaking his brother dawdled in the doorway.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to the mall tomorrow."

"You can't," Seto replied without looking up from his screen. "Roland's helping me at the office tomorrow all day tomorrow, Saito has to come with me to the board meeting, it's Kanzo's day off, and I think you know better than to go with Alistair."

"I wasn't really asking," Mokuba said quietly.

That got Seto's attention."Excuse me?" He looked over at his brother whose posture made it clear that he was uncomfortable, but his words were, for Mokuba, quite firm.

"A girl I like is working and I want to ask her out now that my leg's healed. I sort of thought that might go better if I went by myself. I was just letting you know where I'd be."

Seto raised an eyebrow. It wasn't like Mokuba to go against what he said. And what was this about a girl?

"Mokuba," he started, "it's not safe for you to go by yourself; you know that. Just wait until next weekend when Roland or Saito can go with you."

"I'm fourteen, you know," Mokuba argued softly. "I'm old enough to be able to protect myself. When you were my age you had almost reached a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and you knew how to shoot a gun. How come you never let me learn that stuff? "

Seto couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What are you talking about? You know that I don't want you to have to grow up like I did, that's why you won't, if I have my way, ever pick up a gun."

"Don't you think I should be able to decide that sort of thing for myself?"

"Look, Mokuba, once you're older you'll—."

"That's what you always say. When will I be old enough to go to the mall by myself? I don't know what reality you're living in, but in mine it's how you meet people and make friends. I don't mind having the tutors and stuff, but since I don't go to school I don't ever get to hang out with anyone my age and you're always busy so it gets really lonely..."

Seto regarded the sad frown tugging his brother's mouth downwards. That Mokuba's loneliness had escaped his notice caused an ache of melancholy in his chest. But still, he was wary of sending his brother into the world alone. Perhaps he could compromise.

"Hmmm…I'll ask around and see if any of the department managers have kids your age."

"No," Mokuba said emphatically. "Don't you get it? What I'm saying is that you have no right to control everything I do!" His voice continued to rise with every word. "You're not my dad, ok? You're my brother. And if you try to stop me from going tomorrow, I'll take a bus. I'm not going to let you boss me around like you do everyone else!" He abruptly turned on his heel and stalked out of the office, leaving an astonished Seto at his desk.

What the hell had gotten into Mokuba all of a sudden? And why did what he had said sound so damn familiar? He puzzled over it for the next few minutes when it finally hit him: he knew exactly where he'd heard that bit about not kowtowing to him before and where to find him.

Alistair had been lying on the couch re-reading Black Beauty with Sewell on his stomach when Kaiba whipped the door open so hard it hit the wall with a loud bang. Sewell yowled in surprise, leapt off the sofa, and streaked under the bed, raking her claws along Alistair's torso in the process. Hissing in pain, Alistair quickly dropped the book.

"What?" he asked in annoyance, sitting up and pressing his hand against the scratches that were already starting to ooze blood.

"I warned you not to put Mokuba in danger again!" Seto snarled at him, marching into the room with his hands balled into fists.

"What are you talking about?" Alistair demanded, backing away so he wasn't trapped behind the coffee table.

"You're telling me that you didn't tell Mokuba I was purposefully keeping him dependent on me, and that he shouldn't let himself get bossed around?" Kaiba's disbelief was practically palpable. "Because that doesn't sound like Mokuba, Alistair; it sounds like you. After everything I've done for you, how dare you try to undermine my authority and pit my brother against me?"

"That's not what I was doing," Alistair answered civilly as he slowly moved to stand behind the couch. "All I did was open his eyes so that he could open yours. He's not a child anymore, and your 'protection' is only going to make him resent you. I did you a favor."

Seto flared his nostrils. "At least my brother's still alive," he growled through gritted teeth. It was a low blow, and although it hurt, Alistair had anticipated it.

"Is that the best you can do? Admit it: you just hate the idea that someday Mokuba won't need you anymore and you'll be left all alone. Because let's face it: no one else can stand you."

Seto stiffened. He wouldn't have been able to put words to it, but that was exactly what he was most afraid of. He felt suddenly as naked as he had the night before at the pool and resisted the urge to run his thumb along his wrist.

"As though I care about that," Seto scoffed. "I don't need anyone to 'like' me."

"Oh, spare me," Alistair scoffed right back. "If that were really true you wouldn't insist on always being the center of attention. But fine, if you want, we can replace 'like' with 'worship.'" When Kaiba flared his nostrils, he smirked and added. "Has anyone ever told you you're kind of cute when you're angry?"

Seto set his jaw, intending to deliver a scathing retort to salve his dented pride before throwing Alistair unceremoniously out of the house to fend for himself.

Alistair stared defiantly back into Kaiba's face, waiting for him to say something. He had the distinct impression that he was about to lose his current lodgings and while the comfort had been pleasant, perhaps it was just as well. It was really too bad about the pilot's license though; that would have been nice. But really, he didn't need any handouts from Kaiba. Especially Kaiba.

Though it had only lasted ten seconds, the silence seemed to stretch on for much longer. Get out. That was what Seto wanted to say, and by all accounts knew he should say, but he was fully aware that if those words were to come out of his mouth, Alistair would not only get out of his house, he'd get out of his life for good. And why wouldn't he want Alistair out of his life? The man had done nothing but cause him trouble and had even tried to kill him, and Mokuba, yet he found himself incapable of saying the two simple words that would end the tedious affair.

Over the years, Alistair had seen many expressions flit across Kaiba's face that the latter had most certainly meant to keep hidden, and was surprised to see a slight furrowing of his brow and a momentary narrowing of his eyes. Why would Kaiba, whose biting snark was legendary, have to think about how to respond to so insulting a taunt?

Say something! Almost every fiber of Seto's being screamed. But something seemed to have nailed his tongue firmly to the floor of his mouth.

Alistair took an experimental step in Kaiba's direction, scanning the latter's features for some indication of what he was thinking.

As with his tongue, Seto found that he'd lost control of his legs as well, leaving him dumb and immobilized, unable to do more than watch as Alistair crept slowly closer to him, his expression one of uncertainty.

He had seen Kaiba up close dozens of times over the years, had studied practically every pore on his face, was all but intimately familiar with the shell pink of his lips. But none of that had prepared Alistair for the feeling that came over him once he drew close enough that he could feel Kaiba's warm breath on his cheek. There was panic in Kaiba's eyes now, and yet still, he hadn't moved.

Alistair was nothing if not patient, the long years he'd waited to duel Kaiba were testament to that, but he also had an impulsive streak. And he had the sudden impression that perhaps...

Though he knew what Alistair was going to do, it wasn't until he felt the light, tentative pressure of Alistair's lips against his mouth that Seto regained control of his body. He reeled backwards and tripped over his own foot, his hands, shaking as they had been the night Alistair had surprised him at the pool, held in front of him defensively. White hot revulsion coursed through his body like poison even as in his stomach there flared a momentary spark of pleasure that urged him forward.

"Why did you do that?" he asked stupidly, realizing with some relief that he'd regained control of his tongue as well as his legs.

"I wanted to," Alistair replied with much more composure than he actually felt-his stomach was flip-flopping painfully. He had no idea what to make of Kaiba's reaction. He'd been so sure that the tension in the room had come from them both, had thought that for the briefest of instants, Kaiba had kissed him back. And even though he appeared to have horribly misread those signals, Kaiba seemed more disturbed than he felt the act warranted.

Before Alistair could say anything more, Seto, not caring that it was cowardly, turned on his heel and fled into the hallway as quickly as possible without actually breaking into a run.

As the door clicked shut, Alistair rested his fingertips on his mouth. What did it mean?

Sewell emerged from under the bed and meowed.

"What do you think?" he asked her.

Back in his office, Seto paced back and forth. Now that he was no longer under the oppressive atmosphere of that room, he was forced to examine the duality of the situation. He was horrified to think that he had in any way contributed to it. Had he reacted? He tried to recall. Piercing silver eyes. Brief pressure against his mouth. And yes, yes he had returned that pressure. He reached the wall of the room, pivoted, and paced back again. But that was surely just what one did when one was kissed. An automatic reaction. A reflex. Just as it had been when he'd... He quickly shoved the memory away. This had been nothing like that. Alistair, for all that Seto couldn't stand him, was certainly nothing like Gozaburo. And Seto wasn't twelve anymore. Which meant that this had been something different.

Or had it been? He pivoted again, realizing vaguely that the only light in the room was coming from the lamp on his desk. Alistair was from across the border after all; maybe he was playing some kind of long game so that he wouldn't be deported. Seto paused in front of his desk and drummed his fingers absently on the surface. No, that didn't make sense. Alistair wouldn't be causing so much trouble if his intention was to seduce him. He was smarter than that. So was this perhaps a part of the vengeance he had been so prone to ranting about? But to what end? If he really knew nothing of the life Seto had had behind the closed doors of the estate, he would have had no way of knowing what kind of reaction to expect. Seto could just as well have hit him and thrown him out into the street. Which I should still do, he reminded himself dutifully. He didn't mean it, though, which brought him back to the other element at play: himself. The disgust, he understood. His strange paralysis and the spark of (but it couldn't have been) pleasure, he didn't. He absentmindedly changed the rhythm he was drumming against the desk top.

He'd frozen up when he'd discovered he didn't actually want to kick Alistair out, no matter how annoyed he'd been. It was similar to how Wheeler made him feel, he realized suddenly, his fingers resting momentarily as he allowed himself to digest the new piece of information. The implication caused him to begin pacing again. It simply couldn't be.

But it was, he knew. It was related to how he'd felt after their second duel, after Alistair had passed out. Seto could have left him there for Roland to deal with, but instead, after Mokuba'd run on ahead to the exit, he'd knelt and hefted Alistair into his arms. He remembered thinking about how much different Alistair looked when his face wasn't warped with anger. Seto almost could have described him as pretty.

He'd tried his best to touch as little of the other man as he could, but it had proved impossible to ignore the warmth of the body pressed against his, Alistair's head lolling back against his shoulder. Seto could remember every detail-so vivid. And now to have felt Alistair that close to him again…

What am I thinking? He halted in front of his bed and stared vacantly at his closed door. This is ridiculous!

He decided a shower might help clear his head, hoping that the water could wash what had just happened off of him. On his way, he couldn't help but notice his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Even though he looked at himself every morning; scrutinizing his image to make sure he looked perfectly put-together, he'd never focused on his mouth before. Now, though, he raised his fingers to rest briefly on his lips and wondered again: why would he want to do that?

After waking up to the feeling of complete humiliation that accompanied Kaiba's rejection of him, Alistair had hidden in his room until he'd seen Kaiba's limo pull out of the driveway, and had even waited another fifteen minutes after that to go downstairs in case Kaiba had forgotten anything and had to double back.

He was sitting in the dining room,waiting for Trudy to come up with breakfast, and reading A Tale of Two Cities with Sewell on his lap when Mokuba bounded into the room.

"Morning, Alistair!" he greeted him brightly.

"Morning." Alistair set the book on top of his dictionary.

"Guess what? I talked to Seto and told him I'm going to go to the mall by myself today. I did just what you said, and even though I was really nervous, I did it!" Another piece of the Kaiba randomly going on the warpath puzzle fell into place.

"That's really great, Mokuba."

"Right? This will be the first time I'll have a chance to maybe ask Hillary out!" he said, actually bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

"Good morning, gents," Trudy said, interrupting the conversation by entering the room with breakfast. She set the two trays on the table, one for Mokuba, and one with food for herself and for Alistair. She sat down and the three of them began their meal with Alistair setting aside small bits of sausage for Sewell.

Seto Kaiba was not the kind of man to get distracted from his work. Dedicated would be an understatement, and he was always his harshest critic, straining himself to do even more so that his productivity was perpetually maximized. This particular day however, for the first time possibly ever, Seto couldn't focus. He would look at a memo or start to tweak the duel disk design and then five minutes later realize that he hadn't been paying the slightest bit of attention. What had happened the night before between himself and Alistair was so far out of his frame of reference that he found he had spent much more of his day trying to unravel that mystery than getting any actual work done.

Abandoning the pretext that he was reading the email on the screen in front of him, Seto sat back in his chair and allowed himself to stare absently at the dark, paneled ceiling. He supposed he should have foreseen this to some degree. Sex. But he'd made the miscalculation that he was different. That something like that didn't apply to him. And up until this point, it hadn't.

Seto had never liked being touched (Especially not since…). Even Mokuba only received minimal physical affection from him. He acknowledged that to some degree his mentality that intimacy was unnecessary came from Gozaburo, but some of it, he felt, was a result of his job. Someone in his position was always subject to being taken advantage of. Even people who, like Yugi, didn't seem to be out to pull one over on him were a threat because he could never be sure that one day it wouldn't turn out that Yugi was only using him, or trying to, just like everybody else.

But in that moment he'd felt something mingled with the anger that was always smoldering just under the surface. Desire. There existed within him a primal craving now, something he could feel in his gut. It had lain there, dormant, for years, but he could tell that while it was lying low for now, it was certainly capable of flaring up again.

Which brought him nicely to the heart of the matter: Alistair. Alistair had instigated the entire affair which, after several hours of analysis, led Seto to believe that he'd at least been thinking about it beforehand, although why, he couldn't fathom. It had been clear to him from day one that Alistair reviled him, and yet...and yet he'd kissed him. "I wanted to." It made no sense!

When Mokuba got home from the mall, Alistair was sitting in his usual spot under the willow with Sewell lurking nearby, attempting to catch a butterfly. Running full-tilt through the garden, Mokuba came to a skidding halt beside the stone bench.

"She said yes!" he announced triumphantly, smiling broadly.

Alistair carefully bookmarked A Tale of Two Cities and set it on his lap."Really?" he asked in surprise.

Mokuba nodded. "Yeah. I just went up to the counter and after I'd ordered my food I told her that it must suck having to give other people food all day without getting to eat any yourself, and so—wait for it—then I said: 'so maybe you'd like to be the one to get served some time.' And she smiled and asked if I was asking her out and I said yes, and then she said she'd like that and then the guy behind me in line got annoyed that I was standing there talking to her, and so I told her I'd write my number down on a napkin and give it to her so that we can set something up, and yeah," Mokuba pause for breath. "That was basically it. Now I just have to wait for her to text me. Pretty cool, huh?" He put his hands on his hips expectantly.

"I…yeah, definitely."

Mokuba pursed his lips and let his arms fall to his sides. "You could at least pretend to be excited for me."

"I am," Alistair insisted. "It's just that…and don't take this the wrong way, but are you sure it's not just because you're Mokuba Kaiba?"

"What do you mean?" Mokuba asked, stung, although deep down, he'd wondered the same thing. "Are you saying she's only interested because of my money? I'm not just some spoiled brat, you know. I'm pretty smart, and I think I can be funny, and maybe I'm even good-looking, so she doesn't just have to be interested because of my name! Ugh! You sound just like Seto!" With that, Mokuba stormed off, leaving Alistair feeling guilty for having ruined Mokuba's moment of triumph. The kid had a point: what he'd said was exactly the kind of thing he could imagine Kaiba saying, and that he'd in any way been channeling Kaiba left a bitter taste in his mouth and he resolved to apologize. But he instinctively knew to let Mokuba lick his wounds first.

Mokuba stomped back to his room. What did Alistair know? Hillary would never try to take advantage of him. She always laughed at his jokes and listened when he talked, and had seemed genuinely interested in going out with him. Alistair didn't know what he was talking about! He'd said himself he'd never had a girlfriend before.

His cell phone buzzed and he quickly pulled it out of his pocket, his anger forgotten, but it turned out to just be a curt text from Seto chastising him for not telling him that he'd gotten home safely. Annoyed, he tossed his phone onto his bed. Couldn't anyone just be happy for him? Was no one going to acknowledge that he'd successfully asked out a girl on his first try?

They're just jealous, he reasoned. They're mad that I'm going to get a girlfriend before them even though they're older. Pacified, he retrieved his phone, texted his brother an apology, then settled in for a couple of hours of playing his sniper game before thinking about tackling the rest of his homework.

After Mokuba left, Alistair had tried to get back into his novel, but soon realized that the interruption had shaken loose the feeble barrier he'd been attempting to maintain so he wouldn't obsess over what had happened the night before. He lay back on the sun-warmed stone of the bench, using A Tale of Two Cities as a makeshift pillow. It was an idiotic thing to have done, he chastised himself, not for the first time that day. Had he really expected Kaiba to throw his arms around him before heartily kissing him back? On some level, yes. He closed his eyes in embarrassment as he remembered how Kaiba had so soundly rebuffed him. Would he ever be able to face him again? He'd been so sure he'd felt something. Kaiba'd had every opportunity to walk away and hadn't, right?

Alistair opened his eyes and sat up, squinting against the light. Oh, who was he fooling? Kaiba'd felt nothing at all. And wasn't it just as well? Now, perhaps, Alistair could focus his attention on something more important than childish fantasies in which Kaiba had kissed him back. It was Kaiba, after all. The same Kaiba who so callously ran the corporation that was slowly enveloping the entire country in its shadow. The same Kaiba who didn't care about anyone's well-being but his own. Who looked down on him and taunted him...and had taken him in and offered to jump-start his life despite everything Alistair had done.

Whether it was because of Mokuba's influence or not, Alistair couldn't get out from under the glaring flaw in his assessment that Kaiba was the embodiment of evil. Given that, how could he proceed? Quietly, he decided. He was used to being a fly on the wall, and it was a role he felt he ought to return to in order to protect the opportunity he now had dangling in front of him to finally have a normal life. It might not be a life full of excitement or even a life of particular value, but after his topsy-turvy upbringing, it might be just as well. And he loved flying, so a career as a pilot was far better than anything he could have conceived for himself. For that reason alone, he would lay low, ride out his remaining time at the estate demurely, avoid Kaiba at all costs, and then walk off-stage into the blissful banality of the life Kaiba had promised him. He could only hope he still had the possibility of falling under the radar after so dramatically drawing attention to himself by (he could scarcely force himself to even think about it) kissing the man he'd only recently attempted to murder. He prayed to whoever might be listening that Kaiba would suffer amnesia in the near future and forget about it.

The sun went behind a cloud, casting the bench more completely in shadow. Alistair shivered slightly and decided to head back inside for the evening. It had been enough time that he felt he could reasonably approach Mokuba to apologize for wounding his pride, so he resolved to pay the teen a visit before returning to his room to finish off his book before dinnertime.

As he picked his way through the garden to the back terrace, it struck him again how odd it was to have to keep track of something like 'dinnertime.' It had been years since anyone had held him accountable for something so domestic. Even having to worry about hurting Mokuba's feelings was strange. He'd spent the past seven years bickering with Valon and Raphael over everything from who had the strongest target to whose turn it was to give a progress report to Dartz, or picking on each other out of sheer boredom during their long hours of surveillance. And if any of them had ever apologized to each other he certainly didn't remember it. But in this case, he actually did care if Mokuba was angry with him and actually wanted to make amends. Strange.

When Mokuba heard a knock on the door, he assumed it would be Trudy with the snack he'd called down for.

"Come in!" he called.

"Hey." The voice belonged to Alistair, and the accompanying meow indicated that Sewell wasn't far behind.

Mokuba frowned. He wasn't interested in another lecture. "Come in," he allowed reluctantly, and Alistair tentatively opened the door and stepped into the game room. .

"Look," he began uncertainly when he saw that Mokuba wasn't even going to pause his game. "I wanted to apologize for what I said to you earlier. I do think it's cool that she said yes; I wouldn't even know where to begin if I had to ask a girl out on a date, and obviously neither would Kaiba, so who are we to question her motivation?" He paused to pick up Sewell, who was rubbing her nose against his pant leg. "Besides, you're absolutely right: you are smart, and kind, and a really good gamer—why wouldn't she be interested?"

"I'm kind of good-looking too," Mokuba added with mock superciliousness, his spirits lifting considerably, pausing his video game at last and turning around.

Alistair smiled. "See? What do I know? You're the expert, not me."

Mokuba bit his cheek thoughtfully. Now that Alistair had proven he was willing to concede his jealousy, Mokuba was inclined to help him out."You know, Hillary might have an older sister. If she does, I could always ask if she'd go on a date with you." Mokuba was proud that for once he was the one with connections instead of his brother. "Oh, but I guess I'd probably have to ask Seto first. You know, in case he was interested."

Alistair unconsciously clenched his jaw at the thought and tightened his grip around Sewell such that she meowed indignantly at the sudden rough treatment..

"Oh, but I mean, if you really wanted…" Mokuba backtracked, misunderstanding the grounds for the micro expression.

"What?" Alistair relaxed his arms and stroked Sewell between her ears. "Oh. No, I'm not. Don't worry about it."

"How come? You saw how pretty Hillary is; I'm sure if she has a sister she's really pretty too."

"I…"

As Alistair shifted uncomfortably, Mokuba couldn't help noticing the tightness of his clothes and remembering his stomach exposing tank top.

"This is kind of a personal question," Mokuba began carefully, "but do you not like girls, Alistair?"

Alistair blanched and then reddened. "I uh…I…No, I guess I don't. Not really," he mumbled, his cheeks practically the same color as his hair.

"Oh." Mokuba didn't know what to say to that. He had no real opinion on the subject, but the notion that Alistair would want to do with men what he wanted to do with Hillary, took him aback. For about twenty seconds, the only sound other than the background music of Mokuba's game was Sewell's purring.

"I should probably go feed her," Alistair said finally. "I'll see ya." He fled before he could be asked anything else. The question wouldn't have embarrassed him so much if he wasn't basing his answer off of how he felt around Kaiba. But he was. "Maybe you're just Kaibasexual." Wherever Valon was now, Alistair hoped he was miserable.

Normally Seto wouldn't leave work until almost midnight, and sometimes even later, but by nine he'd realized there was no point in staying any longer, so he decided to clock out early. Valerie, who was also packing to leave, looked up in surprise when Seto emerged from his office. Without offering any type of explanation, Seto swept past her and out the door. His presence caused several startled employees on the ground floor who were meandering towards the door to snap to attention, but Seto paid them little heed.

Alfred was waiting for him in the company parking garage, a moonbeam illuminating the limo's glossy black finish. As the car pulled out onto the street, Seto pondered whether or not he wanted to continue with the service. He quite enjoyed driving, and he found having to wait for Alfred-even if it had only ever happened once or twice-tedious. Mokuba would still need access to the car, at least for a few more years, but for himself, Seto thought he might switch to his Porsche. He'd had half a mind to trade the car in for something less flashy after his brother had chosen it for him in San Francisco, but he'd grown rather fond of it even if red was hardly his color.

He glanced out the window and was annoyed to see that they hadn't even made it to the highway yet. He supposed that's what he got for trying to leave early. At the rate they were going he'd just end up getting home the same time he would have if he'd left at half past ten as he normally would have. Yes, he decided, the Porsche was definitely the way to go. None of this namby-pamby grandfatherly nonsense: ne needed a driver with nerve, who wouldn't be cowed by the prospect of driving at a speed that would actually get their adrenaline pumping. In other words: he needed to drive himself.

After casting around for another topic to distract himself, and even trying to absently watch the highway out the window, Seto was unable to procrastinate his more immediate problem anymore and finally turned his attention to what he ought to do once he got home.

He loathed the notion that Alistair should have any kind of control over him, loathed that he was knowingly allowing himself to be manipulated, and of course, he loathed himself for humoring the spark of pleasure he'd felt for that split second right after Alistair had done it. It hadn't been much, and Alistair had probably only done it to shock him into forgetting to follow-up on his threat or God only knew what other reason, but ultimately, it made no difference. If Alistair was trying to play him, it was a pretty pathetic play seeing as how no one would ever believe him if he told them. And for all his faults, Seto seriously doubted that was Alistair's angle. Outspokenly self-righteous he might be, but almost because of that, Seto found it hard to imagine Alistair giving some tabloid interview.

Seto absently tapped each finger, one at a time, against the car's window frame. He had never been one to fidget; such an unnecessary and obvious emotional conceit. But alone in the backseat with no one to see him but the traffic lights, he relaxed his control a fraction. He needed all of his concentration for the task at hand. What was he going to do about Alistair?

He arrived at the estate shortly before ten. Kanzo expressed surprise at seeing his boss home so early, but Seto made no comment. As he entered the garage to park the car, his headlights illuminated Alistair's motorcycle parked in the corner.

He put Mokuba in danger, Seto reminded himself. He's always disrespecting me, my company. I have no reason to want to...I don't want to! He's a snake and a, he could hear Gozaburo's gruff voice in his head now, "a fag. Any real man would have beaten him for daring something so disgusting."

Upon entering the house, he first went to Mokuba's room, knowing that his brother would undoubtedly still be awake.

"Seto?" Mokuba said questioningly, shocked to see his brother standing in his doorway. "You're home early." The event was practically unprecedented.

"You should have texted me once you got back today," Seto said. "You told me that you would."

"I know, I'm sorry. I forgot." But despite his brother's chastisement, Mokuba couldn't help but add: "Hillary said yes!"

"I know. You messaged me a whole paragraph about it," Seto responded in mild exasperation.

"Isn't that cool, though?" Mokuba looked hopefully up at his older brother. "I'm thinking about maybe taking her to the movies or something. It's been ages since I've been, and I know that that's what a lot of people do on their first date."

Seto pitied his brother his naivety sometimes. He could tell that Mokuba was excited, but he was wary of this girl's intentions, and didn't want Mokuba to get hurt.

"Mokuba," he started, a note of caution in his voice.

Mokuba's face became drawn as his smile slowly faded. "I know, I know. You're going to say that she's just using me. And maybe she is, but so what? I'm not stupid; I'll figure it out. And hey, maybe she isn't. Maybe she actually likes me, is that really so unreasonable?"

Seto could see that his brother desperately wanted his approval and against his better judgment, he relented. "No. Just be careful. And go to bed Mokuba: it's late."

"It's only ten O'clock!" Mokuba protested incredulously to his brother's retreating back. "I haven't gone to bed this early since I was eleven."

Outside of Mokuba's room, Seto found himself dallying in the hallway, revulsion and longing rooting him to the spot. Turning left would bring him to that room. He hated that room. But Alistair was in that room. But he hated Alistair too.

Finally, with distressing difficulty, Seto forced himself to turn right.