Open P.O.V.

Seto Kaiba was not the kind of man to involve himself in other people's problems.

He had spent years perfecting the art of not giving a damn.

And yet, when Atem applied for a job at Kaiba Corp, Seto knew immediately that something was wrong.

The former Pharaoh had always carried himself with an air of confidence—regality, even. But when he'd walked into Kaiba's office for his interview, he'd been… different. Quieter. Tired in a way that went beyond mere exhaustion.

Something was eating him alive.

Seto wasn't good at talking about this sort of thing. Hell, he wasn't good at talking about anything that wasn't business or dueling.

But he noticed.

He noticed how Atem had hesitated before answering basic questions—how his eyes, once sharp and calculating, now seemed distracted, distant.

He'd hired him on the spot.

Not out of pity. Not even entirely out of practicality.

But because, despite his best efforts, Seto cared.

Atem was the closest thing he had to a friend.

And while Seto Kaiba had no idea how to help, he could at least do this.

A well-paying job. A flexible work schedule. The ability to work from home.

Seto wasn't an idiot. He knew damn well Atem would never ask for help outright.

But maybe—just maybe—if he was working from home, he'd actually take the time to sleep.

Atem hadn't wanted to come to game night.

Not because he didn't want to see his friends—he did—but because lately, every social situation felt like a minefield.

He was exhausted. The stress of hiding his condition, of keeping up appearances, of dodging Hayate's passive-aggressive—and sometimes blatantly aggressive—remarks, was draining him dry.

But Yugi had insisted. Said he needed a break. Said it would be fun.

So now, Atem sat on Jounouchi's couch, listening to Honda and Jounouchi argue over some stupid bet, while Yugi and Bakura shuffled the deck for their next game. He tried to focus, tried to pretend nothing was wrong.

Tried to ignore how Honda kept watching him.

It wasn't obvious—Honda wasn't the type to pry—but Atem had been a king. He knew when someone was studying him.

He forced himself to ignore it.

It worked—right up until Honda caught him alone in the kitchen.

"You good, man?"

Atem tensed, fingers tightening around his glass of water.

"I'm fine," he said smoothly, too smoothly.

Honda crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. He didn't look convinced.

"You look stressed," Honda said. "And tired." He hesitated, then lowered his voice. "And I think I know why."

Atem's breath caught.

He kept his expression carefully blank, but inside, his mind was spinning.

Does he know? How could he know? Have I slipped up? Have I—

Honda watched him for a moment, then sighed. "Look, I'm not gonna force you to talk, okay? But I've seen my sister go through this twice. And if I'm right…?" He trailed off, giving Atem a pointed look.

Atem felt like the ground had been yanked out from beneath him.

He swallowed hard, fingers curling into fists at his sides.

"I don't know what you mean," he said carefully.

Honda exhaled through his nose. "Right. Sure."

There was a long pause.

Then, to Atem's shock, Honda stepped back.

"No pressure," Honda said simply. "Just… if you ever need help, or whatever, I'm around."

Atem could only stare.

Honda gave him a lopsided grin, then turned back toward the living room like nothing had happened.

Atem, for the first time in months, felt like crying.

Eight months in is when he can't hide it anymore.

Atem was at a work meeting at KaibaCorp for a new Duel disk they'd been testing.

It happened too fast.

One moment, Atem was walking to his seat at the conference table, nodding along as Kaiba went over a new project. The next, the room tilted violently, his vision blurred, and a sharp pain lanced through his lower abdomen.

He barely had time to gasp before his legs buckled.

The world lurched.

There was a rush of movement—Kaiba's voice, sharp and snapping orders—but it was all distant, muffled beneath the roaring in his ears.

The next thing he knew, he was on the floor.

"Atem!"

Someone was touching him—firm hands gripping his shoulders, keeping him steady. He recognized the voice, even through the haze. Mokuba.

His breathing was coming too fast, his whole-body trembling. He tried to push himself up, to move, but a fresh wave of pain shot through him, stealing his breath.

No, no, not here, not now.

He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to keep calm, struggling to think past the panic clawing at his chest.

Then Kaiba was there—looming over him, blue eyes sharp and too knowing.

"Someone call a doctor," Kaiba barked. "Now."

"N-No," Atem croaked, shaking his head frantically. "I-I'm fine, I just—"

His stomach twisted violently. He barely choked back a cry.

Kaiba's expression darkened.

"Like hell you're fine," he snapped. "You're burning up."

Atem stiffened.

Shit.

He hadn't even realized—his body felt hot, feverish, his skin damp with sweat. His scent blockers were still in place, but if he was this far along…

If Kaiba figured it out—

"Atem," Kaiba said, lower this time, more measured. "Do you need to go to a hospital?"

Atem swallowed hard, shaking his head again. His heart was pounding.

He couldn't. He couldn't. If he went to a hospital, they'd find out.

Kaiba studied him for a long, tense moment.

Then, abruptly, he stood.

"Clear the room," he ordered.

There was a pause—Mokuba hesitated, eyes darting between Atem and his brother—but then, reluctantly, he nodded.

Within moments, the conference room was empty.

Kaiba crouched down again, gaze sharp, piercing.

"Start talking," he said flatly. "Now."

Atem barely managed to inhale before a sharp, unbearable pressure clenched around his lower abdomen.

He stiffened, eyes going wide as a sudden rush of warmth flooded down his thighs, soaking through his pants and pooling on the conference room floor beneath him.

For a moment, there was silence.

Atem's breath hitched. No. No, no, no.

Kaiba's gaze snapped down to the rapidly spreading puddle beneath Atem, his sharp blue eyes going impossibly wide.

"You have got to be kidding me," Kaiba said, voice flat—except for the unmistakable note of alarm beneath it.

Atem couldn't answer. He was too busy trying to breathe, trying to stay calm, but his body was betraying him at every turn. The pain was rolling over him now in crushing waves, his muscles locking up as another contraction ripped through him.

This isn't happening.

He gritted his teeth, fingers digging into the carpet, his whole body trembling. He couldn't do this. Not here. Not now. No one was supposed to find out.

Kaiba cursed under his breath and immediately activated his phone's speaker.

"Mokuba, get the car ready. Now."

"Wait—what? Seto, what's—"

"Atem is in labor," Kaiba snapped. "I don't care where you have to drive or how many red lights you have to run, but we need to move. Now."

Atem made a weak noise of protest.

"I-I can't," he gasped. "I—Kaiba, please, I—"

"You don't get a say in this anymore," Kaiba shot back, already shrugging out of his suit jacket and pressing it into Atem's shaking hands. "Hold on to that and try to breathe."

Another contraction hit like a hammer. Atem bit back a cry.

Kaiba let out a sharp exhale, clearly fighting to stay calm himself.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered under his breath before giving Atem a firm, no-nonsense look.

"You're having this baby," Kaiba said, voice dead serious. "And we are not doing it on my goddamn conference room floor."

And with that, he hooked an arm under Atem's shoulders and hauled him up.

As soon as Atem's body went limp against him, Seto swore viciously.

"Shit."

This was bad. Really bad.

Atem was already too pale, his breathing uneven as he slumped in Kaiba's grip. Seto barely caught him before he hit the ground again, adjusting his hold with a sharp exhale.

"Mokuba!" he barked into the phone.

"I'm already in the car!" Mokuba's voice crackled through the speaker. "I'm pulling up now!"

Kaiba didn't waste another second. He crouched slightly, hooked an arm beneath Atem's knees, and hauled him up into a full carry.

He was lighter than expected. That, more than anything, sent a cold spike of unease through Kaiba's chest.

"Goddamn it, Sennen," he muttered under his breath.

How had it come to this?