Yugi P.O.V.

Yugi woke up to the sound of running water.

For a few groggy seconds, he lay there, staring at the ceiling, his brain still half-asleep. But then, like a traitorous bastard, it volunteered an explanation for why the shower might be running at this hour—

—and he immediately regretted regaining consciousness.

His entire body went rigid as last night's memories surged forward, unwelcome and entirely too vivid.

No. Nope. Absolutely not.

Yugi threw an arm over his face, willing his brain to shut up. He was not going to think about this. Not now. Preferably not ever.

It was bad enough that he couldn't look at his best friend without thinking about how Atem had looked underneath him—

Yugi made a strangled noise into his pillow.

He was going to die. He was actually going to die.

Forget alcohol. He was never drinking again as long as he lived.

Yugi barely got himself under control by the time the shower turned off. He took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts into a box, stuffing them down as far as they could go. Do not think about it. Do not think about it. Do not think about—

The bathroom door opened with a soft click.

Atem stepped out, fully dressed, thank Ra. His damp hair clung slightly to his skin, the occasional droplet of water catching the dim glow of the bedside lamp. His movements were slow, lazy with exhaustion, his sharp features softened by sleep.

And just like that, Yugi's hard-fought mental discipline shattered.

Because now that he knew—really knew—his brain refused to ignore the details he'd never noticed before.

Atem was an Omega.

It had never crossed Yugi's mind before. Atem had always kept his scent locked down so tightly that even now, fresh from a shower, he was barely giving anything off. And he'd only been back for a few hours before they'd both gotten obliterated, so Yugi hadn't had the time to process it. But last night...

Yugi bit his tongue, hard. Nope. Absolutely not. We are not going down that road.

Still, it was so much easier to believe when Atem looked like that—sleepy, relaxed, a little flushed from the heat of the water. Soft.

Yugi swallowed, staring resolutely at the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge why Atem might be looking so... mellow. It was definitely just exhaustion. Nothing else. Nothing else.

Atem didn't seem to notice he was awake, and thank God for that, because if he did, Yugi would have no choice but to dig a hole in the Egyptian sand and live in it forever.

Instead, he lay there, absolutely still, waiting for his heartbeat to return to something normal, refusing to let his mind wander.

And if it did anyway?

He squashed the thought like a roach.

The morning of their departure arrived far too soon.

The air in the hotel was thick with the usual last-minute chaos—bags being double-checked, passports and tickets shuffled between hands, and Honda loudly complaining that he swore he packed his phone charger but couldn't find it.

Amid it all, Atem sat quietly at the edge of the hotel room's couch, hands folded neatly in his lap, an unreadable look on his face. If he was nervous, he wasn't showing it. But Yugi, who had spent years sharing his soul, could tell something was weighing on him.

Not that he could blame him. It wasn't every day you were legally created as a living person.

The whole situation had been a nightmare of red tape, but thanks to Ishizu's government contacts—and Kaiba of all people—it had been handled. Originally, they had planned to forge records tying Atem to Yugi's family tree. Simple. Easy. No one would question it.

Then Marik had opened his mouth.

"I mean, it's not like people don't already think you two are—"

Yugi had nearly choked on his tea. Atem had gone rigid.

And Kaiba, ever the opportunist, had taken one look at their reactions and smirked before coldly shutting it down.

"Oh, please," he had drawled. "If you insist on keeping him in your house, at least try not to make the international authorities side-eye you for potential incest, Mutou."

Yugi had wanted to die.

But in the end, Kaiba had made an executive decision to attach Atem to his family records instead.

"I suppose that makes us cousins," he had said dryly, arms crossed as he eyed Atem with something almost like amusement. "Seems fate enjoys tying our bloodlines together in every era."

Mokuba had been delighted.

Atem, for his part, had blinked at Kaiba for a long moment before simply nodding and saying, "I suppose I should be honored, then."

Kaiba had scoffed. "Don't push your luck."

And just like that, the paperwork had been finalized.

Now, sitting in the hotel room, Yugi sneaked a glance at Atem out of the corner of his eye.

He was here. He was really here. He had a name, an identity—one that would let him live a normal life.

Their flight back to Japan was in a few hours. This was happening.

Yugi swallowed hard.

And yet, somehow, the fact that Atem was an Omega was the only thing his brain refused to process properly.

He shook himself. Focus. The plane ride would be long, but at least it meant they wouldn't have to deal with any more surprises for a while.

Right?

Atem had, for the most part, forced himself to move past the incident.

At least, as much as one could move past waking up in the same room as their best friend after an alcohol-induced haze, knowing that said best friend had very much noticed certain things about them that they had spent years carefully concealing.

But Kaiba's comment?

That was going to haunt him forever.

He sighed, rubbing his temple as he watched Jounouchi and Honda argue over whether or not they should buy snacks at the airport or wait for the in-flight meal.

It wasn't that he was ungrateful—he knew how much effort Kaiba had put in to make sure he could stay in the modern world without question. He had expected some level of snide remarks in exchange. But the fact that Kaiba had so readily chosen to attach him to his family line instead of Yugi's made Atem uneasy in ways he couldn't quite put into words.

It wasn't just that he was now, legally, the cousin of one of the wealthiest men in the modern world. It was the knowledge that, without a doubt, Kaiba was going to make full use of this newfound connection to justify future challenges.

Atem closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose.

As if Kaiba had needed more of a reason to consider him an eternal rival.

"I can feel you sulking from here," Marik said, dropping into the seat beside him with all the subtlety of a cat knocking over a glass of water. "Is it the 'cousins' thing? Or are you still thinking about how red your face was when he said it?"

Atem shot him a look. "I do not sulk."

"You brood, then," Marik corrected with a grin.

Atem huffed, crossing his arms. "I am merely considering the long-term implications of this situation."

"Oh, you mean the part where Kaiba's probably going to use this to drag you into every tournament he hosts for the rest of your life?"

Atem groaned.

Marik laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family, cousin."

Atem barely suppressed a groan, resisting the urge to drop his face into his hands. He was never going to live that down, was he?

Anzu, of course, had no such reservations. "He did have a point about how it would look, though."

Atem's eye twitched. "Must we continue discussing this?"

Anzu just gave him a knowing look over the rim of her teacup. "Just saying."

Jounouchi, who had been doing an admirable job of holding in his laughter, immediately lost the battle, snorting into his drink. Honda elbowed him in the ribs, but it was no use—Jounouchi was gone, leaning into Honda's shoulder, laughing like a lunatic.

Atem knew the moment Jounouchi opened his mouth, something infuriating was about to come out.

"Oh, come on, Pharaoh, you gotta admit it woulda been real awkward if they'd gone the other route—"

Atem fixed him with a look.

Jounouchi held up his hands in surrender, still grinning. "Alright, alright, I'll drop it. But you gotta admit, Kaiba had a point."

Atem refused to acknowledge it. Flatly.

Because yes, alright, in theory, Kaiba did have a point. The optics would have been disastrous, and Atem was grateful Kaiba had found another solution.

But did they all have to discuss it right now?

And did Marik have to bring it up in front of everyone earlier?

Atem could still see the lingering embarrassment on everyone's faces—Rishid had politely excused himself from the room when Marik first mentioned it, Bakura had looked at him like he'd just kicked a puppy, and poor Ishizu had looked utterly scandalized.

The memory alone made him want to sink into the earth.

Marik, the absolute menace, was still smirking like he had done the world a favor. "Personally, I think it's hilarious."

"Of course you do," Atem muttered, resisting the urge to strangle him.

Anzu shook her head, sipping her tea again. "Well, it is a little funny."

Atem very much wished everyone would just forget about it.

"Isn't a drunken one-night stand a pretty normal fiction trope?" he mused, utterly deadpan.

Honda choked on his coffee. Jounouchi, who had just recovered from his earlier fit of laughter, lost it all over again, clutching his stomach as he howled.

Atem felt every molecule in his body freeze.

Yugi, sitting stiffly across the table, suddenly found his plate of food very interesting.

Marik, still grinning like the absolute menace he was, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. "Well, I won't be around to see how this plays out, but I am curious. Maybe I'll hear about it in a few months when I visit Japan."

"You are not visiting," Atem said immediately.

Marik's grin widened. "Oh? You think you can stop me?"

Atem pinched the bridge of his nose. He was already dealing with one persistent rival in this era—he didn't need another one deciding to drop in unannounced just to be a pain in his ass.

Yugi, who had yet to recover from the mental catastrophe of this conversation, gave a weak, half-hearted laugh. "You could always just not ask about it when you visit."

Marik looked deeply unimpressed. "And where's the fun in that?"

Jounouchi chuckled, clearly enjoying this far too much. "Just accept it, Pharaoh. You're stuck with us forever."

Atem sighed, staring longingly at the door like it might offer him a swift escape from this madness.

It did not.

Honda refused to meet Atem's gaze, wisely choosing to drink his coffee in silence.

Anzu sighed, clearly deciding to be the only sane person in the room. "Can you all please stop making this worse?"

Bakura smirked. "Oh, but it's so fun watching him squirm."

Atem inhaled sharply through his nose, exhaling slowly in a desperate attempt to maintain some level of composure.

He was not going to kill Bakura.

He was not going to kill Marik.

He was not going to flip this table and march into the desert to live as a hermit.

But Ra help him, he was considering it.

Atem had never wished for oblivion more in his life.

The first half of the overnight flight had been pure, unrelenting hell—courtesy of their ever-supportive friends, who had apparently decided that teasing them mercilessly was the best way to pass the time. And if that wasn't bad enough, Kaiba—that absolute bastard—had arranged their seating assignments with the kind of malicious precision that could only be born from sheer pettiness.

Atem and Yugi, trapped in a window seat and middle seat together, were forced to endure every offhand comment, every barely muffled snicker, every pointed look sent their way. And because moving wasn't an option at 30,000 feet, all they could do was suffer in silence.

At least, until everyone finally passed out.

For a moment, Atem thought he might finally get some peace. The cabin lights were dimmed, Honda was snoring softly a few rows back, Jounouchi had slumped over on Anzu's shoulder, and Marik—blessedly—was not there to add fuel to the fire.

But then—then—Atem became aware of the other problem.

Yugi's scent.

It wasn't like he'd never noticed it before. He had, of course. But he'd never been trapped with it in a confined space, with no distractions, no reprieve, and nothing to do but breathe it in. And now that he had noticed, he could not—no matter how hard he tried—un-notice it.

And that? That was a serious problem.

Atem sat rigid in his seat, fingers curling against his knees, willing himself not to think about the way his pulse had picked up or how his body was reacting to this entirely unacceptable realization. The last thing he needed was to have one of those dreams while sitting right next to Yugi, in the middle of a crowded flight, with no escape.

His life was already humiliating enough.

For the first time since boarding, he seriously considered throwing himself out of the plane.

The morning was a blessing—a groggy, jet-lagged, unholy mess of a blessing, but a blessing nonetheless. Because anything was better than spending another second trapped in that plane, subjected to the cruel whims of fate (and his friends).

The moment they landed, Atem made a silent vow to never take a long-haul flight ever again.

But, of course, touching down in Japan was only the beginning.

They cleared customs without issue, though Atem couldn't shake the paranoia that someone would somehow realize he wasn't exactly a standard traveler. Thankfully, Kaiba's spite-fueled paperwork adjustments held strong, and the officials barely gave him a second glance.

Then came the real challenge.

Grandpa Mutou had come to pick them up, standing just outside the arrival gates, waving enthusiastically. Atem braced himself. He had spoken to Sugoroku before—well, as a spirit—and he knew the man was nothing but kind. But it was another thing entirely to be here, as a physical person, needing a place to stay.

And sure enough—when they walked up, Sugoroku did a full double-take.

"Well, I'll be damned," the old man muttered, adjusting his glasses as if that would somehow change what he was seeing.

Yugi let out an exhausted laugh. "I told you he was coming back, Jii-chan."

"You did, but you'll have to forgive an old man for needing a moment to process the fact that the ancient Pharaoh is now my new grandson-in-law."

Atem choked. "I—what?"

Yugi groaned. "Jii-chan!"

Sugoroku only chuckled, utterly unbothered by their mortification. "Come on, let's get you two home. You both look like you need a proper meal and about twelve hours of sleep."

That, at least, was something Atem could agree with.

It wasn't until they were halfway back to the Kame Game Store—squished together in the back of a cab, bags piled up around them—that another horrifying realization struck him.

He was going to have to introduce himself to Yugi's mother.

He barely swallowed down a groan. As much as he had fretted over Yugi's grandfather reacting badly, it had completely slipped his mind that there was another member of the family he had yet to meet.

Akari Mutou.

Ra, give him strength.