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duelistkingdom · 3 years

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we could be the way forward

so i once again want to give a huge shout out to @millenniumpuzzle for beta’ing this piece for me. anyway, a bit of background on this piece: i’m in this discord server and there’s this event going on called ship awareness month! so i’ve written a few pieces for this but the first of which i’m publishing (close to valentine’s day: it’s still feburary 13th here) is for atem/thief king bakura. i know the shipname but i’m going with kingshipping for it because it’s just... nicer.

this fic is rated T and has no real warnings attached to it beyond ancient egypt is not accurately depicted at all. surprisingly, all the food and waterfowl mentioned were available in ancient egypt, however.

if you would prefer to read in ao3, you can click here.

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The Thief King had planned this for months. He had every detail down to the letter planned. He planned for everything. What Bakura hadn’t planned on was the black-and-white vision he’d always had changing the minute the Pharaoh came into view. He wasn’t expecting to be caught off-guard when he noticed that the Pharaoh’s cape was in color and that gold had a dazzling color to it. He had no words for any of the colors presented to him. Normally, one’s parents would tell a small child which colors were which and then they could name them when they finally saw them. This was an insult at this point. Must the colors come into view when he was standing in front of the court that was the very reason he did not have his parents? That he grew up with no names for colors?

“No,” was all Bakura could say in response, staggering back. There went all his plans at that moment. “No, no, no… one of you assholes can’t be my soulmate.”

Unfortunately for him, the Pharaoh held up his hand to the rest of the court, blinking slowly as he looked around him. And the Pharaoh stood up from his chair, walking up to him. “It’s you,” the Pharaoh noted, sounding somewhat marveled. “You must be my soulmate.”

Bakura gritted his teeth. He had come to kill the Pharaoh and instead, he’d discovered that the person he’d sworn to be his mortal enemy was what brought color into his life. He realized he did have a name for the color of the Pharaoh’s cape: blood. The Pharaoh’s cape flowed down around him like a river of the stuff. “You can’t be my soulmate,” Bakura hissed. “I despise you.”

The young Pharaoh tilted his head in confusion, as if suddenly realizing that this was not the happy moment the Pharaoh was probably picturing. Bakura was willing to bet that the Pharaoh had been raised on stories of soulmates meeting and having their happy ending. All fluff and no tragedy. He was willing to bet this young Pharaoh had never experienced any kind of hardship in his entire pampered life. “You’ve never met me before,” the Pharaoh said in confusion. “How could you despise me without knowing me?”

Once again, Bakura noted how sheltered the Pharaoh must be if he never realized that people could despise him for merely existing. “You represent the failures of this empire,” Bakura said with a snarl. Unfortunately, this did not cause the young Pharaoh to flinch back. His eyes continued to bore into Bakura’s and Bakura noted that much like his cape, the Pharaoh’s eyes were also the color of blood. Blood and gold was the only way Bakura could describe the Pharaoh’s color scheme. “Your failures are why my family is dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the young Pharaoh said in response and once again he held his hand up behind him. It was then that Bakura noticed that the guards were at arms. Ready to take him in, more than likely. His entire court looked furious. One of the priests seemed like he was ready to protest the truth that Bakura had laid out in front of the Pharaoh. “I’m even more sorry to hear that you feel that way. My dear soulmate, it would mean the world to me if you allowed me to help ease your burden.”

Bakura flinched back from the Pharaoh’s gentle tone and surprisingly soft gaze. What was he playing at? The Pharaoh had already taken to calling him “my dear soulmate”? They’d just met and Bakura’s first reaction had been to tell him to fuck off. “You can’t ease my burden,” Bakura growled, hating how little of a reaction the Pharaoh had to his bad behavior. “You’re a selfish, arrogant, spoiled prince who doesn’t even begin to understand the devastation your father’s reign caused.”

“That’s enough,” called one of the priests. Bakura noted that this one appeared to be only slightly older than the both of them. “You will address the Pharaoh with respect! I do not care if you are his soulmate, the Pharaoh is divinity on Earth.”

“Mahad, please,” the Pharaoh said, looking over shoulder with a sharp gaze. For once, the sheer weight of the power that the Pharaoh held was starting to hit Bakura. He had not yet realized that the Pharaoh had been sheltering him from the consequences of his own actions. Bakura hated the Pharaoh for that. “Darling, I understand that there are some pains that can not be completely healed,” the Pharaoh said softly as he cupped Bakura’s cheek and Bakura flinched away from his gentle touch. It was even worse when the Pharaoh was trying to be kind. Bakura had been gearing up for a fight and now everything about his plan had completely fallen apart. “I want to understand. Please, let’s talk about this.” He paused, before giving a soft smile and a chuckle. “I just realized… I never properly introduced myself. I am Atem. May I know your name, my sweet soulmate?”

Sweet soulmate? Was he messing with him? The Pharaoh had to be joking. But there was no sign of humor in the Pharaoh’s face. “Bakura,” he finally said after a moment of trying to analyze the Pharaoh’s motives. “And I am the result of your father’s failures,” Bakura said, finally remembering his main goal. “And I will make you pay for what you did to my family.”

“I would pay any price you ask,” the Pharaoh simply replied and once again, Bakura was knocked off balance. He’d expected the Pharaoh to balk that his soulmate was some commoner or to get angry at him for his assumptions. Instead, the Pharaoh’s approach was gentle. “I could never forgive myself if I had ever brought you harm, even unintentionally. My dear soulmate, please… I once again wish to know how I can ease your burden.”

Bakura could only reach the conclusion that the Pharaoh must be insane. There has to be a price that would be too high for the Pharaoh to consider paying. Did the Pharaoh not realize the cost that his father was willing to pay during the bloody war that took place while he sat upon the throne? Bakura bitterly noted that the Pharaoh seemed like he’d spent his entire life well-fed, whereas Bakura’s parents…had given him their share of the food. To keep him alive rather than let him starve to death. “You could starve like my parents did,” Bakura said, reflexively. The anger was still there. He couldn’t just let it go just because the Pharaoh was acting weird. “Your father didn’t care about the cost, he just cared about himself, didn’t he? You sit here only because your father took from my family and those like my family.”

For once, the Pharaoh seemed surprised. Good. “Is this true,” the Pharaoh asked and for a minute Bakura thought the Pharaoh was talking to him. It took Bakura a second to realize he was talking to his advisors instead. “Did people really starve because of that war?”

“Of course not,” one of the elder priests said with an acid look on his face. Bakura realized he actually recognized this particular priest. When the war had run short on soldiers… He narrowed his eyes at this priest. Surely this priest had to recognize him, right? Bakura had personally begged him for more rations to help his family and this priest had laughed in his face. “He’s making it all up.”

“You,” Bakura roared, starting towards the priest. “You were the one who denied me rations when I told you my family was starving! And here you stand, still with power! Who are you to be the arbiter of justice when you would let a child starve to death to keep yourself fed?”

The priest called Mahad seemed surprised. In fact, this declaration seemed to shake the entire court. For once, they were all listening to him. Bakura was surprised by this shift in the air. Even the Pharaoh was glaring at the priest. “Akhenaden,” the Pharaoh said acidly. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“What does it matter what he has to say for himself,” Bakura asked, unable to help himself. “I was there! He allowed people in my village to starve to death! Rounded up whoever seemed fit and demanded they fight in a war we had no care for! He claimed this was at the behest of the Pharaoh. Don’t you already know this?”

“There was no such order from the previous Pharaoh,” Mahad said quietly, and Bakura realized that the guards that had been aiming their spears at him…were now aiming them square at the priest named Akhenaden. “It is required for every priest to study the previous reign so we may better advise the current Pharaoh. This is the first I am ever hearing of ration cuts. Akhenaden… What did you do?”

The Pharaoh stepped away from Bakura and for once, Bakura realized there might be some truth to what the Pharaoh had said. “Akhenaden, you are stripped of your duties from here on out,” Atem said, motioning to the guards. “We will conduct a full investigation into these claims. Until then, you are to remain confined to your quarters. You will be kept there with guards stationed there. If you attempt to leave, I will have you executed. Am I understood?”

Bakura didn’t expect the Pharaoh to actually care about justice. He expected him to protect those on his court. He expected lip service to justice and to be dismissed. So far, this was one of the odder days of his life. He didn’t know what to say in response to the swift action the Pharaoh took the second Bakura levied his complaints. In fact, Bakura had assumed that the young Pharaoh already knew about what happened to his village. A nasty thought hit him, however. Could he really trust this display? He had no other explanation for what had happened, but looks could be deceiving. He already felt like he was on uneven ground. Mahad eyed Bakura. “My Pharaoh,” he remarked, sounding uneasy. “What do you wish for us to do in regards to your…ah…soulmate?”

The Pharaoh turned back to Bakura. “Show him around the palace,” the Pharaoh said decidedly, a soft smile appearing across his features. Bakura hated to note that it made the Pharaoh seem rather pretty. “Perhaps see if he’d be willing to join me for dinner later.”

It was very clear to Bakura that despite the events earlier, Mahad was still wary of him. It was the first sensible reaction to him that Bakura’s seen. He was still thrown off by the way the Pharaoh had simply accepted that they were soulmates. It bothered him. “If you should harm the Pharaoh in any way,” Mahad remarked suddenly as he led Bakura down a very isolated hallway, “I shall personally kill you myself.”

Bakura smirked. “It seems you have more sense than your Pharaoh,” Bakura remarked, a raised brow. He was not sure what to make of Mahad yet. While he had come to Bakura’s defense against Akhenaden, he still could not trust that Mahad was not simply playacting to stay in the Pharaoh’s good favor. In fact… He couldn’t trust the Pharaoh’s response either. It was confusing that the Pharaoh just seemed to go along with the revelation without a single question about it. “I make no promises that I won’t.”

Mahad turned to him, eyeing him, sizing Bakura up. “While the Pharaoh has you under his protection, you will remain safe in these halls,” Mahad said, clearly unhappy with this statement. “Let me put this in a way that you’ll understand: while the Pharaoh breathes, no harm can come to you. It is in your best interest that you keep the one person who wants you alive unharmed.”

When it was put like that… “What do you mean the Pharaoh has me under his protection,” Bakura asked, almost angry that the Pharaoh had managed to find a way to squirm out from Bakura’s revenge plans again.

“Exactly that,” Mahad said as he led the way towards opulent bathhouses. Bakura noted the amount of gold that seemed to adorn the walls. If nothing else, he could admire the Pharaoh’s disgustingly rich tastes. Vaguely, he wondered if the dinner the Pharaoh promised would be just as luxurious. “Considering that you are the Pharaoh’s soulmate… It comes with privileges. You will not be harmed within these walls. You are free to whatever you’d like here and you are free to come and go as you please. Consider it a blessing from the Gods.”

Now there was someone that Bakura certainly had no interest in thanking. Where had the Gods been when his family was starving? Where had they been when they’d needed the hellish war to end? Still, Bakura knew better than to outright insult the man when the man was essentially offering Bakura free reign of the palace. Anything he’d like, huh? “Does that mean that I’m your boss now?”

Mahad frowned and sighed, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. “No,” Mahad finally said as he stopped in front of a room. “This is the Pharaoh’s room. You are welcome to stay in there tonight or if you would like a separate room, there is a room across the hall that is also available to you. The Pharaoh would like me to inform you that you do not have to stay with him or eat with him, but he would highly prefer for you to do so.”

“Then why doesn’t he tell me himself,” Bakura remarked, already planning on taking the other room. He didn’t give a shit what the Pharaoh wanted. “He talked big about wanting to talk things out with me. Why did he just take off like that?”

“The Pharaoh has duties to attend to,” Mahad said, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering something under his breath again. “Believe it or not, the Pharaoh has responsibilities that he has to take care of, even when he’d rather be running off doing Gods know what. Now, I believe that concludes the tour, and I have my pupil to return to. I shall be leaving you in the hands of Priest Set. Set, if you would.”

The man that Mahad called over had a rather sour look on his face. Bakura sensed a perfect target to annoy. “Could Isis not do this,” Set asked immediately. “I don’t want to have to babysit the Pharaoh’s boyfriend.”

“I’m not his boyfriend,” Bakura objected, annoyed. Must everyone act like it was a done deal that the Pharaoh and him were going to ride off into the sunset, happy and in love? It was rather infuriating. “Besides, what else could you have to do that could possibly be more important?”

Set glared at Bakura. “I could be counting every gold piece in the treasury,” Set spat back at Bakura, “And it would be far more interesting than being around you.”

Bakura laughed. He couldn’t help it. Set seemed to take himself so seriously that Bakura would assume the man had a stick up his ass. “Hey, chill,” Bakura said, glad to have found at least some sort of entertainment around this stupid palace. “Not my fault that you aren’t considered important enough to warrant a bigger assignment.”

He was amused as Set began to splutter, looking infuriated. Now why couldn’t he have done this to the Pharaoh? Set seemed rather easy to rile up, Bakura noted. “I’ll have you know that watching the Pharaoh’s soulmate is a very important assignment,” Set finally got out, sounding rather stiff. “It is basically being assigned to guard the Pharaoh’s heart, after all.”

“Really? Is that how you’re going to justify your babysitting assignment,” Bakura remarked, enjoying the way it seemed to bug this man that he was more or less forced into hanging out with him. Bakura had noted that Mahad had already vanished. How did he do that? Would it be too much to ask Set to tell him how Mahad just vanished? It seemed like a very useful skill. Nah. He’d rather keep mocking Set. “After all, you’re the one who called it babysitting and not very interesting. Clearly it’s not that important to you.”

Once again, Set spluttered in response. “You’re very aggravating,” was all Set could say in response. Unlike Mahad, Set did not seem as skilled in muttering to himself. Bakura perfectly caught every word of, “Just like the Pharaoh, in fact. Perfect for each other.”

“Well, we are soulmates,” Bakura said, squashing his first instinct to be offended by the comparison to the Pharaoh. Did the Pharaoh really enjoy aggravating this priest? Bakura instantly decided maybe it would be best to join the Pharaoh for dinner. He could ask the Pharaoh about his priests. The plan began to instantly change in his head. Perhaps this wasn’t the dire setback he’d previously thought. “And it seems quite easy to make you mad.”

Set paused before a slight smirk appeared across his face. “Tell you what,” Set said. “The Pharaoh enjoys games of Senet. Do you know how to play?”

Bakura was taken aback. A game? He supposed it made sense that the Pharaoh would have some time to actually play games. “Only vaguely,” Bakura said, refusing to admit that he’d never actually played Senet before. “It’s been a while.”

“It won’t do if you don't know how to play,” Set said as he led Bakura to another room in the same hallway. He motioned to a board with some pieces on it. “Let’s begin with the basics.”

A few rounds later, Bakura had gotten bored of the game. It seemed that for all his boasting, Set was a rather poor player and even a poorer loser. “You suck,” Bakura said at the end of their final round, yawning. “Could you actually try to present a challenge this round? If not, perhaps it’s better we stop now.”

Bakura had barely noted the time that had gone by. He supposed it must be late if the sun was starting to set. And yet…he still had yet to see the Pharaoh again. Speak of the devil, he thought as the Pharaoh entered the room with a rather jovial smile upon his face. “I see Set’s shown you the game room,” the Pharaoh remarked, noting the look upon Set’s face and smirking. “And I see Set still has yet to find an opponent he can beat.”

Set glared at the Pharaoh and to Bakura’s great surprise, the Pharaoh merely laughed in response. “Perhaps you and I should go another round, my Pharaoh,” Set said. “Perhaps this time I may actually win.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you have improved from the last time,” the Pharaoh remarked, the same smirk still on his face. Bakura instantly wanted to know what happened last time. “However, the cooks have prepared us dinner and it would be rather rude of us to let their hard work go cold. Bakura, my dear, have you decided if you would like to join us for dinner? If you would rather not… I can have a plate sent to you.”

“No, I’ll join,” Bakura said hastily. If the Pharaoh was indeed honest about wanting to talk to him, Bakura didn’t want to throw away the chance. If he could learn more about life within the palace… Perhaps that was all he needed. “In fact, it would be my honor to join,” he added, rather silky.

It seemed Set did not buy this, but Bakura did not care about the suspicious look on Set’s face. He only cared about the relaxed smile on the Pharaoh’s face that showed the Pharaoh was indeed a trusting fool. “Excellent,” the Pharaoh said softly, holding his hand out to Bakura. Bakura did not understand what the Pharaoh was getting out. “May I?”

A few moments passed before Set gave an exasperated sigh. “The Pharaoh wishes to hold your hand, Bakura,” Set spat. “Honestly.”

Bakura was still confused but hesitantly put his hand out towards the Pharaoh and the Pharaoh’s hand clasped around his. Bakura noted the Pharaoh’s grip was rather firm. The Pharaoh’s gaze was strange. No one had ever looked at Bakura like this. He couldn’t describe the expression on the Pharaoh’s face, in fact. All he knew was that the Pharaoh’s eyes seemed to hold some kind of awe. The Pharaoh pulled Bakura up into a standing position with a glint of something else in his eyes…playfulness, maybe? “Come on,” the Pharaoh said, and Bakura was surprised by how giddy the Pharaoh sounded. “Set, try to keep up.”

The Pharaoh began to pull Bakura forwards and for a second, Bakura was surprised by the sheer strength in the otherwise tiny Pharaoh. He was not expecting the Pharaoh to be able to drag him along. He also was not expecting the Pharaoh to be rather quick. He had to run just to keep up with him. “Do you often do this,” Bakura said, surprised to note that none of the staff seemed surprised to see their young king tear through the halls of the palace.

“Gotta beat Set,” was all the Pharaoh said in response. “He’s got long legs.”

A young girl leaped out of a vase in front of them and Bakura thought he might have a heart attack from the shock. “I’ll keep Set busy,” the young girl said as she landed rather elegantly right in front of them. Or well, to the side. “I’ll be there after Set gets there!”

“Who was that,” Bakura said, unable to help himself. “And why is this so important?”

They came to a stop in front of what had to be a dinning room. “Cause Set takes everything too seriously. Good for him to calm down,” the Pharaoh said with a shrug. “And that was Mana. She agrees with me that Set is too tightly wound up.”

Bakura supposed, after spending some time with Set, that he couldn’t exactly disagree that Set was a little too tightly wound up. However, was this really the best way to get him to calm down? Mana was trailing after Set, chattering away at him with a vaguely serious expression on her face. Her fist was closed tight around the arm of Set’s robes, who looked very annoyed. “Must you make a game out of everything,” Set said to the Pharaoh, glaring down at him. “You should know that you should be taking your duties much more seriously than this. Honestly, how are you ever going to amount to anything if you keep shirking your studies and your duties?”

The Pharaoh seemed entirely too unbothered by these accusations for Bakura’s liking. “One cannot be expected to study all the time, Set,” the Pharaoh said with a shrug. “Have you considered that the problem isn’t that I know how to have fun, but that you entirely have no idea how to have fun?”

“Today you learned that there were things happening in your father’s reign that neither you nor your father knew about,” Set remarked, notably not once looking towards Bakura. “If you wish to prevent your father’s mistakes from happening again, the burden is upon you to know that the time for fun has passed.”

“He has a point,” Bakura said quietly before he could stop himself. “People starved because your father did not take help. He allowed that priest to continue to hold on to power. You said you would pay any price to ease my burden. Are you serious about that?”

Bakura was once again caught off guard by the Pharaoh’s gaze upon him, rather serious. “Of course I am,” the Pharaoh said, lightly squeezing Bakura’s hand. “If both you and Set are concerned there may be other issues that might not have been brought to my attention, then perhaps it would be best to devote further attention to the kingdom to assure that others are not lacking.”

He’d expected the Pharaoh to argue with him. To insist that he was correct and that everyone else around him must be wrong. He had not expected the Pharaoh to agree as quickly as he had. Mana, for her part, had not interjected into this conversation at all. Bakura was surprised when he finally got a proper look at Mana. She looked no older than fourteen, perhaps even younger. She seemed almost disappointed. “Oh,” she said softly. “If… if that’s the case, I probably shouldn’t be bothering you during your studies anymore, my Pharaoh.”

“Perhaps not, Mana,” the Pharaoh said with a slight nod. “I’m certain Mahad would rather you focus on your own studies, anyway. Last I heard, you were getting quite good with your magic.”

Despite everything, Bakura still had a soft spot for children. “It’s okay,” Bakura said, not exactly wanting Mana to keep looking rather upset. “How about this: I’ll hang out with you when the Pharaoh has to study?”

This actually seemed to cause Mana to cheer up slightly. “Really,” she said brightly before launching herself up onto Bakura’s back. He was surprised to note that she was rather light. In the moment, he noted a brief flash of something across the Pharaoh’s face. Once again, Bakura could not read the Pharaoh properly. “Oh, I got to show you some of the cool games we have here! You’re gonna love ‘em!”

Bakura couldn’t find it in him to argue back with Mana about the games the palace must offer if Senet with Set was anything to go by. All that mattered was that this small child seemed to be laughing and happy to have someone else in the palace to hang out with. Bakura could put aside revenge to make sure a child wasn’t upset, after all. “Sure,” Bakura said with a light shrug. “I’m sure you’ll present more of a challenge than Set did.”

“Oh, of course,” Mana said as he carried her into the dinning area with the Pharaoh and Set. “I’m the best at games, you know. The best at hide and go seek, the best at catch, the best at Senet…well, actually, the Pharaoh’s the best at Senet. But I’m second best!”

“Is that so,” Bakura said, looking over at the Pharaoh. “Are you really the best at Senet, Pharaoh?”

The Pharaoh shrugged with a light grin. “Call me Atem, dear,” the Pharaoh said, once again a lot more casual than Bakura would expect out of the differences between status. “And well, I have been told I’m good at it, though I suspect no one is actually playing at their full potential against me.”

“Please, if I could actually beat you, I would have,” Set said with a light snort. “And one of these days, I will beat you, Pharaoh.”

“Considering your skills when you were playing against me, I find that highly unlikely,” Bakura retorted as he set Mana down, who then ran over to Mahad. Mahad had a slightly tired look on his face, Bakura noted. Was that Mahad’s default state? “What, did you just take it easy against me?”

Set scowled again. “Really,” Atem said as he took a spot at the head of the table. Bakura noted there was a chair next to Atem and Bakura suspected it was for him. His suspicions were confirmed when Atem motioned for Bakura to join him. “You have to tell me more about how you crushed Set at Senet. He’s quite proud of his skills in that game, you know.”

“I wouldn’t be proud of them,” Bakura said as he took the seat next to Atem, noting the layout of the table. Mana took a spot next to Mahad, who was sat next to what appeared to be the only other woman at the table. A chair was empty between Atem and Set and Bakura vaguely wondered if that was where Akhenaden normally sat. “They were mediocre at best.”

Bakura noted what was in front of him. It seemed rather small for dinner. Once again, he realized he had no name for the color of anything. “Your soulmate is rather rude,” Set said with a glare. “Are you really going to just let him be rude like that?”

“It’s not rude to point out that you could work on sharpening your Senet skills,” Atem said with a light shrug before popping the entire thing on his plate into his mouth. Bakura did not understand why no one seemed to be complaining that this was not enough food for a person to survive on. Still, he followed suit and noted that it seemed to be made out of some kind of meat. Was this really all there was to the meal? Maybe the shortening of rations had simply been because no one in the palace ate enough anyway. “In fact, you should be reminded daily that your Senet skills could use some work. I’d be happy to show you the ways you’re lacking after dinner, Set.”

“Seems like you’re merely looking for an excuse to show off,” Set remarked as a new item was placed in front of everyone by the staff. Bakura was bewildered to note this was served in what looked like a spoon of all things. It also tasted different from the previous food, having a creamier texture to it. What was going on? Did they just eat tiny bits out of a bigger plate? Were they sharing a single plate of food? He would expect the rich to at least have their own plates of food. “Is it perhaps that you would like to show off for your newfound soulmate?”

Bakura did not like how Set seemed to talk about him like he was not sitting right there. “I’m right here, you know,” Bakura said, glaring at Set. “Perhaps no one informed you that it is rude to ignore those right next to you.”

“Bakura’s right,” Atem remarked as a full bowl of soup was placed in front of them. Bakura’s eyes widened in surprise. This was certainly not in line with the past two “meals” that had been placed in front of them. “It is indeed quite rude of you to speak about Bakura as if he is not here. You should apologize, Set.”

Set glared venomously at Bakura. “Fine,” he said, barely hiding the acid in his words. “Bakura… I would humbly like to request the forgiveness of the Pharaoh’s soulmate for my prior rudeness.”

Bakura, for his part, had already begun to start drinking the soup placed in front of them. He was surprised to note how light it was compared to most soups he’d encountered before. Bakura paused to finish swallowing the soup, before smirking at Set. “I suppose I could forgive you,” Bakura said, well aware that he might be pushing it the more he needled Set. “It will be truly hard to get over all the rude things you’ve said to me, you know.”

“I’m certain with time, Set and you will become friends and work past this rather poor first impression Set put upon you, dear,” Atem said. Bakura was rather stunned by this statement. It showed little care for the impression Bakura might have left upon Set. Perhaps hanging out with Atem might not be the worst thing in the world if this was how Atem decided to act around Bakura. “Set doesn't exactly make the best first impression, after all.”

“This is true,” came Mahad’s quiet remark. “The first time I met Set, I thought he was a rather pretentious prick.”

Mana giggled at this. “Oh, is it make-fun-of-Set time,” Mana said, sounding rather excited. “I love make-fun-of-Set time! You know, he has this stupid hat he likes to wear, so one time I -”

“Do not finish that story, Mana,” Set said with an irritated look upon his face and glaring at the young girl. “I’m sure the Pharaoh’s soulmate has no interest in this story, anyway.”

When Mana’s excited look faded, Bakura decided that despite the fact he actually didn’t really care much about this story, he would let Mana finish it anyway. “Actually,” Bakura said, “I am very fascinated by the story. Please continue, Mana.”

Mana’s bright look reappeared as she delved into a story about practicing magic, hiding something that Bakura didn’t really pay much attention to, and mocking one of Set’s hats. Bakura had barely noticed that time had passed when the soup bowls were collected by the staff and…replaced with even more food. “What’s this,” Bakura asked, rather bluntly.

“It’s the appetizer,” one of the staff said, seeming confused. “Is there something wrong with it?”

Bakura paused. “What the fuck’s an appetizer.”

“It’s to stimulate the appetite,” Atem cut in, smiling as he waved the staff off. “Typically served before a meal. Have you never had one before?”

“But I was eating food before this,” Bakura said, bewildered. “Wasn’t I? Why would you need an appetizer to stimulate whatever the fuck you just said when we’ve been eating?”

Atem paused, frowning. “I… I don’t know,” Atem admitted. “It’s just what we do here for dinner. Just relax. I’m sure you’ll find everything to be delicious.”

With that, Atem had placed his hand gently on Bakura’s thigh and Bakura tensed up at the overly familiar touch. He wasn’t expecting Atem to be this touchy feely. Then again, nothing about Atem was as expected. This day could not get any weirder. Would it be off putting if he pushed Atem’s hand off him? Still, he took a bite out of the appetizer. Atem was right: it was, indeed, delicious. It was also more food than he’d ever had in a single day. He was surprised when the plates were taken away and a salad was placed in front of him.

Once again: it seemed on the lighter side compared to what he would usually eat. If he was hungry, this would not help. Yet no one at the table seemed to complain about a meal of only salad. There was no way there was more food coming after this right? Indeed, yet again, once they’d finished this course, the plates cleared again and a serving of fish was placed in front of him. Now this was something he usually would eat. Bakura noted that it seemed to be catfish, something he’d never actually managed to eat before. Typically, he would eat tilapias as they were easier to catch. He couldn’t complain, though.

Just when he’d thought that clearly this was the end of the meal, another course was brought out. “Ah geese,” Atem noted with a bright smile. “Hopefully it was the one that was pissing me off earlier.”

Bakura did not have a response for that. What did one say when one’s mortal-enemy-turned soulmate declared they had executed a waterfowl on the basis it had pissed him off? “I’m pretty sure it’s your fault the goose went after you,” Mana chirped, already digging into her meal. “You’re shiny and have fun hair. Clearly the bird thought you were nesting material.”

Atem scowled. “Or maybe it was just evil,” Atem said. “Like all waterfowl are. Have you ever met a goose that had a pleasant temperament?”

“I think Mana has a point,” Bakura interjected with his mouth full, ignoring the scandalized look on Set’s face. “Maybe the bird did think you were just nesting material. You shouldn’t think the world revolves around you. It’s not a good look.”

“Must everyone be against me,” Atem complained as he started to eat his food. “All I’m saying is geese are definitely evil. They’ve been chasing me since I was little. Surely I didn’t look like nesting material when I was eight.”

“If your hair has always looked like that, probably,” Bakura retorted. Maybe it was just the fact that Bakura happened to really like geese, but he was tempted to stick his fork into Atem’s hand. “Besides, it’s not like you’re dead. They didn’t kill you or anything.”

Once again, Bakura was confused as to how anyone was supposed to fill up when the serving sizes were rather small. He’d already cleaned his plate. He was rather surprised when a servant placed some apple slices in front of him. The hell was this about? “No but it could have,” Atem said with a sniff. “They have sharp teeth, you know. What sort of bird needs sharp teeth?”

Bakura did, in fact, know that geese had sharp teeth. “That’s how they eat,” Bakura said, glancing up to note that Mana had also finished her food and was now happily munching on the apple slices. Why just a small section of the apple? Were rich people insane? That was the only conclusion Bakura could possibly have. “They live on a diet of fish. They need the teeth to catch the fish in the river. You’re ascribing them a morality on the basis of something they need to survive.”

For some reason, this seemed to cause Atem to sit up straight and tilt his head towards Bakura with a look Bakura could only describe as ‘fascinated’. “Interesting,” Atem said, resting a hand on his chin. “You have an excellent point, my love. Perhaps maybe I should indeed consider that other animals would have different needs to suit themselves to their environment.”

The tone Atem had was so sincere that Bakura was caught off guard. He’d expected Atem to continue to hold on stubbornly to his previous assumption on the creature but instead… Atem seemed open to learning? It was then that Bakura realized that he was starting to become deeply fascinated with Atem’s reactions to things. Bakura had a picture of Pharaoh Atem in his head and Atem refused to adhere to any of them. It was extremely frustrating. “Oh you have to be kidding me,” Bakura said as another plate of food came out. “How many fuckin’ plates of food do you need?”

“There’s only three courses left,” Set said, looking up to the sky for something. Bakura looked up but didn’t see anything interesting worth looking up for. “Just enjoy the food.”

Bakura examined the new plate of food. How could they just sit here and eat fish, geese, and meat that seemed to have figs and grapes artfully arranged on the plate. It also seemed as if this serving was even smaller than the goose. He’d never seen this kind of meat before. “What is this, anyway?”

“Beef with figs and grapes. One of my favorites,” Atem replied as if he did not just remark that they were eating some of the most expensive food that Bakura’s ever seen. Beef? They were eating beef in the palace this whole time? “It’s rather delicious.”

It was hard to get angry when he’d already know that the royalty got to enjoy this kind of meat the entire time. Bakura instantly thought of those back home in his village who would desperately fish in the Nile for extra food when the rations had been cut short. About how the Nile had seemed to never have enough to go around that year. “So this is how the rich live,” Bakura sneered. “You’d think they’d give you bigger servings.”

Set seemed about to say something when Atem held up his hand again. “Set, don’t,” he said rather sharply. “Part of the reason is because the staff also gets to enjoy part of the meal. Part of it is simply because well, you’ve seen how many rounds of food there is. It’s to ensure there is no waste.”

“Waste,” Bakura repeated as if Atem had said something completely ridiculous. All Bakura had ever seen was proof of the palace’s excess and waste. “Are you serious?”

Atem seemed baffled by Bakura’s reaction. “I would think you’d enjoy knowing that steps have already been taken to ensure that others are also fed considering my father’s failures to do so,” Atem remarked, his earrings clacking against the gold neckband that kept his cape in place as he titled his head. “I understand the mistrust, Bakura. Believe me, I do. I understand why you would be angry. However… I am not my father. And I intend on making things right.”

There was something infuriating how Atem refused to get angry, no matter how bad Bakura’s behavior was in an attempt to rile Atem up. Surely this had to be some sort of ruse, right? A polite face he put on for his priests, perhaps. Maybe if he got Atem alone, he could actually see what Atem was actually like when he had no one important to perform for. He thought about this as he took his first bite of the beef and was pissed that it was, indeed, delicious. Must this be regulated to only the rich? It seemed unfair that they could enjoy the excess that living in the palace afforded them. Perhaps he could convince Atem to allow common folk to dine in the palace. He froze as he realized he was starting to think as if Atem would actually help him. He couldn’t afford to get swept up in Atem’s facade.

As Set had remarked, another plate of food came out and this time, Bakura actually vaguely recognized what was on the plate. It was cheese. Did they really need to devote an entire plate to cheese? He was surprised when no one seemed to remark on the amount of work this must place on the staff. “Is no one else thinking about the amount of work this must be for the staff,” Bakura finally asked, looking around at the table as he noted almost all of them seemed uncomfortable by the question. “Really? Not one thought about how this must be a lot of work for the people who work for you?”

It was only Mana who was brave enough to reply. “No one’s ever complained,” she said softly, looking a bit like she’d just been scolded. “I… I just never thought about it before, I guess. I mean, I’ve got magic,” she said, showing off a burst of fire from her hands as Mahad gasped.

“Mana, what have I told you about fire magic at the table,” he exclaimed, yanking what appeared to be very flammable napkins away from her. “You couldn’t have shown off in a less destructive way?”

“Sorry,” she exclaimed, quickly conjuring water that drenched Mahad, leaving him soaking wet. Bakura couldn’t help himself: he laughed. “Oh! I’m so sorry! Let me -”

“Mana, whatever you are planning to do, do not do it,” Mahad said, pulling his hat off and twisting the water out with a long suffering look on his face. “I think that is enough practicing magic at the dinner table, wouldn’t you agree, Mana?”

Bakura was surprised to hear a quiet laugh at his side and glanced over. Atem, indeed, was laughing. “Personally, I think you should have shown off your pigeon trick,” Atem remarked with a slight grin on his face. “However… You do have a point, Bakura. Perhaps it would be better to see if we can cut down on the amount of plates used to serve food to streamline the washing process. For now, we should let the staff do their jobs without making them feel uncomfortable.”

He was about to argue when a new plate was placed in front of him. A honey cake but the toppings were strange and unfamiliar to him. It was adorned with what appeared to be a ringed fruit of some kind and white flakes. “What the fuck is this?”

“You really should stop swearing,” Set said, an annoyed look on his face. “You are dining with a God, you should behave better.”

“Now Set, don’t act as if you haven’t been rude at the table before,” Atem remarked as he took a sip of his wine. “It’s honey cake with pineapple and coconut.”

As far as Bakura was aware, both those were deeply expensive. No one he’d ever encountered had ever actually tried it. He’d heard of them, of course. Thieves always did make certain to know what was worth taking. Bakura jabbed a finger at the ringed fruit on top of his serving. “Is that the coconut? What color is that, anyway?”

“No, that’s pineapple,” Atem said gently, as if Bakura wasn’t acting like a complete dick over dinner. In fact, Bakura grew more irritated every time Atem spoke in that same soft tone. It was as if Atem didn’t seem to care that his soulmate was a thief. “And it’s yellow, love. Did no one teach you the colors?”

“My parents are dead, in case you forgot,” Bakura hissed, examining the look on Atem’s face. Was this some kind of joke?

Atem did not flinch and instead gave a sort of half smile. “That’s not what I meant,” Atem said and Bakura noted that all the priests seemed rather uncomfortable. “My parents died when I was young. Priest Mahad was the one to teach me about the colors instead. I merely thought that maybe…there was at least someone else who might have looked out for you.”

Bakura flinched back by how sincere the look on Atem’s face was. Was that pity in his eyes? “I don’t need pity,” Bakura snapped. “No, no one looked out for me. I looked out for myself.”

“It wasn’t pity, my love,” Atem said and put his hand over Bakura’s. Bakura yanked it away, almost offended by how Atem refused to be just as rude as he was being. He wanted Atem to get angry. As fun as it was pissing off Set, he wanted to see what could enrage Atem. What could drive Atem to get rude. “You know… You have people that will look out for you now.”

It was deeply uncomfortable the way Atem looked at him. He was trying very hard to ignore the way it was actually starting to have an impact on him. Bakura wouldn’t admit that his heart was starting to actually skip a beat every time Atem looked at him. He didn’t want to start thinking that maybe Atem might be different from everything he’d believed. However, there was no reason to think that Atem was anything but sincere in his desire to ensure that what happened under his father’s reign never happened again.

He was almost grateful when the final course arrived. A tiny bite sized sweet thing that he once again had no name for. This time he didn’t bother asking what it was. He didn’t care. Atem leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Care to take a walk with me?”

Bakura might have had reasons to say no. He might’ve once thought that talking a walk with Atem with no intention of killing him would be too ludicrous to even imagine. Hell, even just this morning he would’ve thought the idea insane. And yet, staring deep into Atem’s eyes, he nodded in agreement.

All he could think was that surely now that the two of them were alone, Atem would reveal his true colors (pun absolutely intended). He expected some level of anger from Atem that his soulmate was someone from a lower class who called him out on all his shit. Instead, Atem remained as relaxed as ever. “What’s the name for the color of your cape,” Bakura finally asked. “I know it can’t be blood.”

“It’s red,” Atem said and Bakura noted that the guards of the palace glanced at him sideways in alarm. Good. At the very least, the guards were aware of what Atem was not. Some of them seemed stunned to see Atem looking very relaxed around Bakura. “Would you like to know more about other colors?”

He would, but he didn’t like how agreeable Atem seemed about it. “Do you understand why your guards don’t like me?”

“You’re a thief,” Atem replied rather casually and Bakura was shocked. So Atem wasn’t as stupid as he seemed. Then why didn’t he just have Bakura arrested already? He’d had more than enough opportunities. Surely Atem wasn’t truly letting everything go simply because they were soulmates, right? “It doesn’t matter. From what you’ve told me, you had every reason for doing what you did to survive. Perhaps the issue is as you said at dinner—we have assigned morality to something without understanding the root cause.”

Survival was a tricky thing. Bakura wasn’t sure where what he did to survive compared to what he did for the hell of it began and ended. However, Bakura was starting to wonder if maybe Shai had twisted him to the Pharaoh so tightly in such a horrible way because it had known that they might never have met otherwise. Would any god be that cruel? He’d heard stories of the cruelty of the gods before but never seen it in action. Would it not have been kinder to let the two of them find each other in a different way? “You’re nothing like what I thought you’d be.”

Atem had a sly smile on his face. “Oh, so you don’t still think I’m an asshole,” Atem asked, raising an eyebrow up at Bakura. “I won’t pretend that perhaps I haven’t been a little sheltered from what life outside the palace must be like, nor pretend that my slacking off during studies is a good thing. I do think that perhaps Shai made you my soulmate specifically to keep me grounded and to give you people to assure your safety and wellbeing. While I would like to know why Shai would have made your life so difficult when it did not have to be, it is not my place to question her choices.”

Bakura smirked. “I thought you were supposed to be divinity personified,” Bakura mocked, referencing the amount of times both Mahad and Set had hammered this home. “Who better to question Shai than divinity on Earth?”

Atem laughed, shaking his head. “Well, I suppose I could ask Shai what the hell she was thinking,” he said with a light smile before pointing at one of the curtains that hung from the window that peered out over the palace’s courtyard. “That’s purple, by the way.” He then pointed to one of the potted plants. “That’s green.”

He was almost amazed by Atem now. Atem no longer seemed like a god to take down but rather just a normal man. Bakura didn’t understand how he couldn’t process that idea before but now it was very clear. Atem’s smile was dazzling, he thought. He acted on pure impulse, cupping both of Atem’s cheeks and pulling him in for a deep kiss. Atem gave a muffled noise of shock before melting into it. Neither of them were experienced, Bakura noted. It was absolutely not a perfect first kiss—their teeth clacked together, and there was just a little bit of the taste of the dessert and wine from dinner on Atem’s tongue. Messy, just like how they’d started. Bakura was a little stunned by himself when he finally broke the kiss and Atem looked flushed. “I heard it was illegal to touch the pharaoh without permission,” Bakura said, by way of explaining himself. Atem laughed breathlessly.

“I won’t tell,” Atem breathed, his lips brushing Bakura’s lightly. “In fact, I’m of the opinion that it’s a stupid rule.”

Bakura smirked. “I personally think a lot of the rules are stupid,” he said. Of course this would not be easy. Bakura knew that. However, he somehow now felt that perhaps he and Atem could work towards something great together. There was only one way forward into the future. “You and I should head to your bedroom and discuss which rules I think are absolutely stupid.” With a light grin, Atem led Bakura to his bedroom and to the start of their way forward, together.

#ygocollablove #shipawarenessmonth #shipawarenessmonth2021 #casteshipping #kingshipping #ygo fanfiction #myfanfic

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elexica · 3 years

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Last Chance Christmas - Chapter 1 {{December 20}}

In honor of the season, I’m pointing my fic Second Chance Christmas on Ao3, and cross posting here! Summary: The radio had droned on about an incoming polar vortex. How could the weatherman have known that his ex-husband would be on the plane? - - - Following an acrimonious divorce, Joey and Kaiba have managed to co-parent the kids without seeing each other for three years. After Kaiba is caught in a blizzard, Joey is forced to spend the holiday with his ex-husband, and confront certain feelings that he thought were dead. Tags: Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Kaiba Seto, Kaiba Seto, Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler, Tenjouin Fubuki | Atticus Rhodes, Tenjouin Asuka | Alexis Rhodes, Getting Back Together, Post-Divorce, Reconciliation, Family Fluff, Family Feels, Family Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Christmas Romance, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, rekindling relaitonship, Christmas Angst, No infidelity!, AU-gust 2020, ygocollablove

Other notes: Kaiba and Joey were married and have two children – Alexis and Attius (from GX, but you do not need to see GX). This is a get-together-again fic. The divorce was not amicable, but no cheating/infidelity. They’re about 40 in the fic, in honor of them being 40 in 2020 if they were 15 in 1995. Joey is half-American, and his mom and Serenity live in New York, too.

Chapter one under the read more!

The sleet fell heavily against the car, turning the view through the windshield into an impressionist painting of abstract asphalt and splotchy red break lights. The drives to the private airport in Westchester were always the worst. Even though Kaiba rarely accompanied the kids on the flight from Japan, even the haunting proximity to the shiny private jets and the trappings of his ex put Joey on edge. Not because he longed to be driving the expensive cars parked in the lot or any other petty envy, but because the whole place always reeked of Kaiba’s ghost. How the man could haunt the freeways and tangled overpasses from thousands of miles away was yet another unsettling superpower of his ex-husband.

The sleet, the traffic, and the eerie nature of the drive allowed frustrated ruminations to wind their way into Joey’s head. Like the suction cups on the edges of an octopus’s tentacles, little doubts and regrets clung to his mind.

Was it petty to fly the kids back and forth from Japan in the dead of winter for only a week? Yes, of course it was. But the custody arrangement hadn’t even demanded that Joey allow that week. The kids were in school in New York, and it was his year to spend Christmas with them. They spent the full summer break in Japan every year. It was Joey’s only time of year—and even then, only every other year—where they all could spend time off together. He didn’t want to give it up without a fight. And Joey was still a fighter.

When Mokuba had announced his wedding date for the first week of the kids’ Winter break, Joey was so tempted to force some other concession out of Kaiba. Joey had been invited as well, but the thought of attending turned his stomach something fierce. He could see it in his minds’ eye: watching his family, his children, and his closest friends, dressed to the nines, celebrating something so pure. And him, looking at the ruins of the most significant relationship of his life. It felt like a mockery, to stand there and watch Mokuba enter a beautiful marriage while he stewed in the wreckage of his own. Plus, Joey’s self-destructive streak was supposed to have died with his relationship.

So, what remained was that precious promise: every other winter break. And this one was his. Sure, his ex-husband was one of the greatest negotiators in the business world, but Joey had thrilled, just a little, and with more than a little guilt, at the thought of bringing him to his knees over this. The opening was his to take.

He hadn’t quite calculated all the way out—indeed, the long game was Seto’s specialty. And once Atticus had been informed that he would be both a performer at his uncle’s wedding reception, it was game over for Joey.

Of course, that was so Kaiba, ever on the offensive, always flipping the script. Stuck negotiating over Christmas and coming to this frustrating solution. He was a cruel rival and a bitter adversary. An altogether dreadful ex-husband.

Weaponizing Atticus’s precious enthusiasm was a perfect move. Which left Joey messing with the logistics and driving in this awful weather.

. . .

The radio had droned on about an incoming polar vortex. How could the weatherman have known that his ex-husband would be on the plane?

Joey hadn’t noticed him at first—he was too busy catching Atticus’s tackle hug, and patting Alexis gently on the head. All that warmth and love had blinded him to the frigid bastard standing at the other side of the gate.

But one his heart was full again, the primal part of Joey’s brain was triggered. Like he could sense the predator lurking, he looked up and saw those stupidly long limbs. He’d know that silhouette from a mile away. “What’re you doin’ here?” Joey shouted. It was so reflexive that he forgot to hide the vitriol from the kids.

Kaiba stalked over slowly, as if he was trying to take too long, waste all of Joey’s time. “Waiting on my return flight plan,” Kaiba said. His voice had gotten more gravelly over the years, but his cadence remained almost robotic.

“Alexis was scared of flying home in the storm!” Atticus laughed, still embracing his father. “And she said the only way she’d fly back was if Oto-san promised he’d pilot! It was so cool dad! Did you know he could fly planes?!”

Joey forced his mouth into a pinched smile. “I did know that. That was very nice of him.”

Kaiba looked at him. “The children anticipated being in New York for Christmas. I am still a man of my word.” Joey wondered if he was tired from the 14 hour flight—he certainly didn’t look any worse for wear.

Frankly, he didn’t look much different than the last time he had seen him, three years before. He was still unfairly trim and perfectly composed. The only noticeable changes were the introduction of a few grey hairs, scattered among the deep brown and a pair of wire-frame glasses that looked like he’d always had them. His black turtleneck was as clean and tight fitting against the prominent muscles of his shoulders and chest as it had been. His dark jeans were still the same stupid level of tight that looked a little like he hadn’t realized he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Between the black Armani loafers and black Burberry trench, he looked like he was about to return to a casual Friday in the Financial District and get drinks at the most expensive bar he could find.

Joey had not anticipated seeing anyone other than his kids, and maybe Isono, and felt instantly exposed. Without the pressure of having to be Kaiba’s arm candy at events, Joey had put on a fair amount of weight, and settled into something of a dad-bod. He was wearing his comfiest jeans and a puffy winter coat. The worst part was the recognition in Kaiba’s eyes—it was the same coat he’d had when they were living together, only more faded and a little tattered at the edges and unzipped. It revealed a shirt that he’d acquired as a volunteer at a concert-fundraiser for Atticus’s youth orchestra. It was an unnecessarily bright green, mercifully faded by the washing machine. His white chunky sneakers looked just like ones he had in high school—and only a little less scuffed up. Overall, the look was one meant for a quick trip to the grocery store, and the last thing he’d wanted be wearing to see his ex-husband for the first time in years. Joey braced for some comment to that effect.

“Well, I’m glad they’re here. We should get going, after all—how many days are there until Christmas?” Joey asked Alexis.

“Five!” She announced.

“Yep! And the tree isn’t even up yet!” Joey said, in mock shock, and smiled at the kids’ surprised faces.

While Atticus was bemoaning how much crucial Christmas celebrating needed to be done in the next five days, a member of the airport staff approached Kaiba. Kaiba stepped away to discuss the flight plan, but Joey kept an ear out. It’s not eavesdropping if it’s your ex-husband, after all.

“Mr. Kaiba, this airport is being closed, effective immediately. The entire metropolitan area is bracing for a significant blizzard, and you are absolutely not cleared to fly.”

Joey couldn’t make out his husband’s harsh whispers, but relished in how they were tinged with a light panic. At least the bastard was freaking out a little. It felt nicer than he would ever admit to know that he made his terrifying ex-husband a little scared.

“Mr. Kaiba, we cannot permit that. I will personally be turning off all lights on the runway and not approving any plans that you submit. It could not possibly be worth dying to avoid spending a few days in New York.”

“That is not your determination to make!” Kaiba’s voice was slightly heated, which was another signal that Joey had gotten to him.

“I’m sorry sir. You are a valued customer, but it would be deadly for you to depart at this time, and I refuse to be a part of such a flight plan. As soon as I can permit take-off, I will personally contact you.”

With that terse statement, the administrator marched off.

Kaiba stared at the ground with a combination of fury and focus. After a few terse breaths, he whipped out his phone and began tapping away.

Joey was about to tell the kids to say Goodbye Oto-san! But deep down, Joey had done the math too.

“Dad, is Oto-san going to be able to stay with us for Christmas?” Alexis said, looking up with pleading eyes. “Like we’re a family again?”

Alexis was smart as hell, and even at age six was a master of strategy. Someday, Joey thought, she’ll be devastatingly skilled at Duel Monsters. Today, she was inconveniently cunning.

“It depends on what arrangements he wants to make,” Joey deflected, hating that an offer slipped through the cracks.

Kaiba looked up from his phone. For a second, he did look a bit tired from the flight. From his life. It was humanizing, and Joey tried to discard it.

“I could stay in a hotel in Manhattan, and visit,” Kaiba proposed, grip on the phone like a vice.

“That’s not what families do…” Alexis whined.

Kaiba’s jaw clenched. Joey was familiar with this face—Kaiba was acutely aware of his compromised position. It felt like they’d never finished the dreaded conversation. The energy that hung in the air was the same as that trite explanation of divorce.

It still was sickening when Atticus echoed the conversation from three years prior. “We’re still a family, Lexi. But Dad and Oto-san can’t stay in the same house anymore because it isn’t—”

It was too much, and Joey couldn’t help himself, “Of course your Oto-san can spend Christmas at the house. If that’s what he wants.”

“If I’m cleared to fly back to Domino sooner, of course I should return to work,” Kaiba answered the unspoken question, and trailed the group back to the car. Atticus was already sharing stories of how well his performance at the wedding had gone.

. . .

The house was a nice house—large enough, with a pretty backyard and a pool in a good neighborhood. It had more expansive grounds when they had been together, but the family didn’t even use the stables or tennis courts, and Joey had sold them off to people who would actually enjoy them. Kaiba had forced his hand when it came to the mortgage and upkeep, but other than the house and the kids’ schooling expenses, Joey had refused any formal alimony.

At the time, Joey had thought it was a brilliant plan. If Kaiba really wanted to value his work over all else, then he would have to suffer through watching all of that effort not change a damn thing for his family. Joey refused to be truly dependent, fifteen years of the golden handcuffs had been more than enough.

Now it was a little embarrassing that the house hadn’t changed a bit more. Since Kaiba had been gone, more of the children’s artwork graced the ornate walls. No interior decorators had been hired, so any new pieces of furniture clashed with the pre-existing scheme. It looked more lived-in, and Joey tried to take some pride in that.

Kaiba was examining a particularly poor crayon representation of the Red Eyes Black Dragon. The scale was completely off: the face was much too big and the eyes bulged grotesquely.

“Don’t say anything mean,” Joey whispered harshly at Kaiba. He was shocked when Kaiba obeyed him. “Now, who wants hot chocolate?” Joey offered, and the kids practically cheered. Atticus was en route to the kitchen already. “Seto, could you start a fire in the living room?”

Kaiba nodded, turning towards the room from perfect memory.

The milk was quickly heated, and the cocoa mix dissolved like magic, swirling into a pleasant warm desert within minutes. Joey had wondered if Kaiba would come into the kitchen to join the family, but he remained in the living room. The kids ran off to the playroom to mess with whatever new game Yugi had sent them home with.

In the soft lighting of the warm fire, Kaiba looked frustratingly, devastatingly, untouched by time. In brighter lights the fine webbing under his eyes and frustrated crease between his brows brought attention to forty years of an overburdened life.

But instead the fire burned away the years. With his glasses stowed away, he looked like the exact same man who he had fought with in the same damn seats three years ago. Hell, he looked like the same man he’d dueled on the beach of Duelist Kingdom island.

“How much do you want?” Kaiba had asked in that god-awful conversation. Kaiba spoke coldly, as if it wasn’t his husband standing before him but an uppity secretary demanding a raise.

Joey had the messy manilla folder out. The old prenup looked fresh other than the creased corner, the bends around the staple proving that someone had read it.

Without a word, he handed it over to his husband. Kaiba skimmed it, eyes quick and calculating. Then he tossed it in the fire.

“You’ve always been a terrible negotiator,” Kaiba said, pouring a bit more whiskey in the glass on the coffee table. The liquor was erasing the bored look in his eye. For the first time in a long time, Kaiba’s glare looked a little unhinged to Joey. Like he was as a teenager—barely suppressing his manic energy. Kaiba took a long, slow sip of his drink before returning to the conversation. “I’m not trying to hold out on the father of my children.”

“Say what you want, and it’s yours.” Kaiba’s words sounded completely empty of passion, drive. Everything that Joey had fallen in love with.

The combination of venom and possession in those words made Joey’s blood boil. How impersonal, as if there was no other important relationship there. Nothing else that he could recognize. Just the father of my children, like a job title. And wasn’t that just like Kaiba? Generosity as the ultimate weapon. Proving he cared so little for the entire situation by abdicating any role. Take whatever you want—none of it matters anyway.

With the paperwork in flames, Joey’s lawyer would have told him that he was entitled to half of everything his husband owned, including those valuable shares of Kaiba Corp. If Joey had been thinking cruelly and carefully, he might have realized then what he only contemplated years later: that he had been the only person who could have taken Kaiba Corporation away from Seto Kaiba without a fight. Those shares and the right collaborator… Joey could have taken the whole thing in a matter of months. Ousted Kaiba, put his ex of the street. Reminded Kaiba what that felt like.

But of course, Kaiba had played three steps ahead, and even his evaluation of Joey’s demands was insightful. He had correctly assumed that Joey wanted nothing to do with the company.

“I don’t want any money. I don’t need it. I can figure something out on my own. I don’t need you for that,” Joey said. Honda had been pissed at him about it when Joey had called the next morning to tell him that terrible bargaining position. Honda supported any way to make sure that Kaiba got the fullest “Fuck You” that Joey could manage, but he was floored that Joey wanted to have to work, and budget, and live like he hadn’t spent the last fifteen years of his life in a world where money was ethereal, unimportant. So plentiful that it had lost absolutely all value and meaning.

Kaiba laughed villainously into the whiskey, campfire scent bubbling up. “Keep the house. Our children shouldn’t have to move. This is more instability than they deserve anyway.”

Joey didn’t push the issue. The instability stung, and the fact that he repeated his parent’s pattern of getting divorced with young children was absolutely searing on his heart. Instead of mourning, he let the bitterness curdle. And Joey couldn’t help remarking, “I’d be surprised if they noticed a difference.”

Kaiba said nothing, kept his face schooled in that icy way that sickened the blond. But it was imperfect to the skilled observer, and his eyes heated up, eyelids becoming just a little wider.

“They should continue to attend their current schools, this cannot interfere with their education,” Kaiba droned, as if it was just another term of a perfectly standard consumer contract. “And they should spend the summer in Domino. We can switch off for the winter holidays.”

Part of Joey was waiting for Kaiba to suggest that they split the kids up. A perfect 50/50 of the children. It was the worst thing that Joey could think to do, really. Shove in Joey’s face that he had made the same mistakes as his parents, had learned nothing. Demonstrate, viscerally, that Joey was going to dissolve their marriage and hurt his kids in the same way that he had been hurt.

But it never came. In the moment Joey felt so defensive. So certain that Kaiba would exploit every vulnerability—that was the man he knew. Ruthless in every sense.

In the years that passed, Joey realized that he wouldn’t have married someone so evil that he’d do that. That Kaiba’s own pain should have been enough to guarantee he had no interest in splitting the siblings. But in the battleground that their living room had become, Joey couldn’t trust anything.

“Fine. But otherwise, I don’t want to see a cent of your goddamn money.”

This line, which Joey had considered so fucking crystal clear became the core of their most prominent post-break-up arguments.

Joey had always been a crowd favorite at the kids’ daycare, and his transition to part-time employee was seamless. A quick mention of the divorce was all that it took to silence any lingering questions. He was good with kids, warm and patient, and he wasn’t far from his own. The job paid enough, the hours weren’t demanding.

After Kaiba had returned to Domino City full time, the economics of the problem became apparent.

Simply put, the mansion upkeep was entirely unreasonable on Joey’s salary. Everyone was aware of this, especially Joey. He was planning on letting the gardens narrow to a level that he could manage on the weekends, drop the security teams, just let everything mellow out. The household manager was fired on day one. The maids on day two. The house was never as spotless, but the traces of dust and dirt were a small price to pay for the lived-in feel that grew.

But the bills never arrived. No emails, no letters, clearly they were rerouted. Gardeners that Joey had fired showed up Monday, as if they hadn’t gotten the news. No house staff returned without a request, and Joey really was going to let it slide.

But the next month Joey received a notice that the utilities had been overpaid. Not by a terribly extravagant amount, but by about a thousand dollars. Joey knew better, but he resisted looking the gift horse in the mouth for just one month and accept the refund.

The next month, the refund doubled, and Joey wasn’t going to take it. When Kaiba answered the phone, Joey didn’t even give him the opportunity to pick a greeting.

“I told you, I don’t want the money. I’m gonna send it back to you, what’s the address again?” Joey demanded.

“Put it in the children’s trusts. Put it towards—” Kaiba’s answer was harsh and quick.

“I don’t want the money, Kaiba. I don’t need it. They don’t need it. We’re fine without it.” Without you, Joey almost shouted. But Kaiba was smart enough, right? He should be able to understand that much.

“Fine.” Kaiba hung up first to spite Joey’s victory, but the refunds on the utilities stopped. Over the last few years there were a couple more schemes. Refunds from the school. Overpaid property taxes. Every time Joey whined to Honda, his friend told him to give up and just take it.

But Yugi had a different guess. Yugi pointed out that, well, every time Kaiba came up with a new way to slip money to Joey, Joey called to clear it up.

“I don’t know how many people he talks to, Jounouchi-kun, but maybe… he just wants to call.”

What an entirely too human thing for Joey’s ex-husband to do. “He has my number, if he wants to talk, he can try, instead of buying it.”

Yugi had shrugged and wisely changed the subject. The whole thing left an odd taste in Joey’s mouth. Even though Joey was the one who had asked for the divorce, Kaiba had done his utmost to seem entirely unaffected by the whole thing. Joey had been prepared for a knock down, drag out fight. Instead, Kaiba kept such an impartial face, it was as if the dissolution of their union didn’t perturb him in the slightest. As if it were some sort of contract terminated at inconvenient time, and no more.

Mind returning to the present, Joey scanned Kaiba’s face in the glow of the fire for any sign of humanity. Any indication that their separation had bothered Kaiba just a fraction of the way it had hurt Joey.

Finding none, Joey handed off the warm mug of hot cocoa. If Kaiba realized it wasn’t coffee, it didn’t show on his face.

“So, anyone miss me at the wedding?”

Kaiba gulped down some “Your friends were there, of course. I think they would have preferred to see you than me.” Kaiba took another pensive sip at the cocoa mug. “Atticus was right. His piano performance was excellent.”

Kaiba pulled out his phone. The screensaver of a Blue Eyes White Dragon melted into a sea of icons. KC must have released a new model in the intervening years. Joey took a bit of joy in the fact that he hadn’t even noticed.

The screen dissolved into Kaiba’s photo album within a few taps. The grid was full of almost identical images of their kids at the wedding, and Kaiba had to scroll for a bit before tracking down a video. It pricked at Joey’s chest, just a touch, to see how many duplicate photos Kaiba had taken of the little subjects.

Finally, Kaiba pressed play and there was nine-year-old Atticus, fluffy brown hair tamed in the back just barely in a tiny low ponytail. Between the hair and his light blue suit, he looked like a baby Mozart, Joey thought.

The image of him at the white grand piano began to move, and the boy played some classical music that Joey couldn’t identify if his life depended on it. It sounded pleasant, the notes flowing and smooth—clearly the little guy had been taking his lessons seriously.

“He is good, huh?” Joey smiled, looking at Kaiba. The radiant satisfaction in Kaiba’s eyes hurt to look at for too long.

Kaiba handed him the phone and stood up. “I’ll check on them. They’ve been quiet for too long, I don’t trust it.” Kaiba rose with his usual dignity. Even without the trench coat, the man swept out of the room with such presence. For better or worse, Joey’s house had lost the melodrama without him marching about.

His ex-husband’s phone sat heavy in his hands. The new release was slim, all flawless and shiny and new. It was a little hot. And it was unlocked. He could search through anything—did Kaiba really still trust him that much?

Joey smirked, and continued to look through the wedding pictures. The rest of the reception looked very precious. There were many attempts to capture a decent shot of Mokuba and his new wife Yui smiling with the kids. From the number of goofy pictures and the relative paucity of serious ones, it had been an uphill battle for Kaiba to get one decent picture that he could put on his desk.

The next series appeared to be taken by Atticus, a legendary phone thief, and was largely shots of Kaiba’s arms and hands grasping for his phone. Joey’s own phone had more than enough pictures like that, and sometimes he couldn’t bring himself to delete them either.

There were a couple of cute shots of Alexis challenging Yugi to a duel. She could read the majority of the cards. Joey didn’t know how she convinced Kaiba to let her bring her duel disk to the wedding, but he was always a sucker for the kids.

There were some pictures what were just Kaiba and Mokuba, and Joey couldn’t help but gaze at his ex-husband. Standing next to his brother with that small smile that looked so hauntingly like the photo in Mokuba’s locket.

They weren’t teenagers, but the pang in Joey’s chest was not convinced.

The next few photos hurt even more, just Kaiba and the kids. Alexis, duel disk still strapped faithfully to her arm, appeared to have requested to be held, and Atticus stood in front making little peace signs and sticking his tongue out.

Kaiba was smiling that tiny, genuine way—still. Through rows of photos, he didn’t stop, except for a few when Atticus jumped to try and steal his sister’s duel disk.

Joey’s eyes pricked with tears, and all of that curiosity was silenced. He had meant to do some snooping—follow up on some headlines about a secret lover that Honda had sent him—but any curiosity was stamped out.

Joey decided it was because he was sad to miss their friends, not their life together. And that everyone had been playing quietly for too long. He abandoned the phone on the couch to see what had happened in the playroom.

The playroom was a nice, cute space. Light blue walls, big windows facing the gardens, plush tan carpeting. Back when they had maids, the room was always tidy, but now Joey had given up. It was for the kids to play in, anyway, so if the train set and crayons and common Duel Monsters cards littered the floor, who really cared. Against the wall, there was a fairly large grey couch that had seen better days.

It was almost too much, to see Kaiba, passed out with a book in his lap, and the kids on either side snoring away. Alexis’ hair dripped over the side of the couch. Atticus was leaning against his father. Joey leaned over to collect Alexis first to take her to her bedroom.

The soft vision was hard to face, and Joey couldn’t resist the simple thought that “this is what I wanted.”

At the movement, Kaiba stirred.

Joey resisted smiling at the spacey, sleepy face. Kaiba blinked tiredly, slowly collecting himself and gathering his bearings. It took quite a lot of effort. “I’m putting them to bed,” Joey said. Kaiba nodded and ruffled Atticus’s hair.

By the time Atticus had been dropped off at his room, Kaiba was missing. But Joey had a decent guess where to find him.

. . .

“So, who’s the secret lover?” Joey asked, wandering into the room that had once been Seto’s study. Joey hadn’t changed anything about it. He hadn’t even removed the decanter of expensive Japanese whiskey or the two crystal glasses that sat next to it. To be honest, he hadn’t spent time in the room at all, except occasionally dusting when he remembered. After the kids were asleep, it was Seto’s usual haunt back in the day. Seto was nothing if not a man of certain preferences.

The decanter was already wide open, and Seto was making significant progress in draining it. He looked quite at home for a man who had been threatening to stay in a hotel. His cheeks were just a little flushed and Joey could tell the liquor was affecting him because Seto laughed at Joey’s comment.

“Please. You don’t have some sort of web alert on my name, do you?” Kaiba said, raising his glass like there was something to celebrate.

“Nah. But Honda does,” Joey answered, and was rewarded with another one of Kaiba’s signature cackles. It was close enough to friendly that Joey decided to take the companion chair in the study. Joey hadn’t sat in that chair even once in the three years since Kaiba’s departure. Leaning into the plush velvet, he realized he had missed it.

“Of course. There is no one, naturally, just that endless speculation. A man continues to take care of his appearance and he can never do it for his professional image and personal health,” Kaiba pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling absently. “It must be for a lover.” The echo of blue light from the phone contrasted the warm yellow light from the study’s art-nouveau inspired banker’s lamps. It traced Kaiba’s high cheekbones in a flattering manner. It made Joey instantly more insecure about his own softer face.

Between the baggy sweatpants and charitable flannel bathrobe, he felt like no one would accuse him of taking up a new lover. If anything, he had spotted a few unflattering headlines in the last couple of years. The attention died off dramatically after Kaiba was all the way out of the picture. “Well, I’m sure you’re not worried about me finding anyone else. Don’t think anyone’s interested these days, I kinda let myself go.”

Kaiba’s eyes snapped away from his phone and back to Joey with a fierceness that Joey hadn’t expected. “First of all, I do not tolerate anyone talking about the father of my children that way,” Kaiba spat, the liquor making him slur the edges of some of the words. “And second,” Kaiba huffed a short breath, “you really have no idea what’s going on in my head.”

“Y’know what, Kaiba,” Joey challenged, “I really fucking don’t.”

Kaiba downed the rest of the drink. “I was thinking that you look just as attractive as the day I met you,” and Joey could spot that hunger in his eyes, seductive as ever. “Your hair is still always tousled, like you’ve been playing outside all the time.”

Kaiba returned his full attention to the decanter. “And I can’t look in your eyes without my heart absolutely aching,” Kaiba said as he refilled his glass. He sounded a bit angry to deliver the compliment.

The heat rose in Joey’s cheeks with the compliments. Joey released a sad little laugh before commenting. “Why do you gotta hold back on stuff like that ‘cept when you’re drinkin’ or whatever?”

Kaiba didn’t answer. He put his drink down and leaned in, so close that the heat of his breath tickled Joey’s cheek. Kaiba’s hand floated up to Joey’s face, the pad of his thumb running tenderly over the stubble on his jawline. Those haunted blue eyes saw straight into Joey’s soul.

“Even though you have done nothing but break my heart for the last four years, you are just as irresistible as ever,” Kaiba whispered, before pulling Joey in. There was no force behind the touch, as if he didn’t quite believe he was allowed to.

Maybe, Joey thought, if he hadn’t had such a dry spell, if he wasn’t so intoxicated by Kaiba’s praise and presence, then Kaiba wouldn’t have been allowed to. But the combination of loneliness, yearning, and unspoken regret was too heady. Always, Kaiba had to be too powerful.

And the kiss could have been their first kiss. It could have been the kiss that sealed their marriage at their wedding. It could have been the kiss after Joey first saw Kaiba hold Atticus. The kiss after they brought Alexis home from the hospital. It was tender and warm and peaceful. It was so right it felt like nothing had every happened to them, between them.

It was soft, and chaste. And too loving.

After Kaiba released, he must have noticed the tears that had leaked involuntarily from Joey’s eyes. The next kiss was not nearly so pure.

For one thing, Kaiba couldn’t seem to resist sticking his hands in Joey’s hair and pulling him in. If that first kiss was asking for permission, the second was to put Joey on notice that he was going to be devoured whole. It was hot and the lingering whisky all but burned Joey’s mouth. The campfire smell was almost too much—a warning that this was a bad idea. That they were both vulnerable and volatile and misguided.

But that hot mouth once again overpowered good sense. It always did, after all. And Joey only broke the make out in order to rise from his seat and straddle Kaiba’s hips in the opulent chair. It was clumsier than the last time they had done this, and Joey felt a bit insecure and out of shape, too much on display. But before the could undo his bold move, Kaiba grabbed him by the hips, long fingers artfully playing with the band of his sweatpants, dancing under his shirt and to his back. Kaiba smoothly scraped his nails down the soft flesh. Kaiba’s efforts were rewarded with a full body shudder, and he smirked back, as if to say “I’ve still got it.”

Joey moved in for another kiss, just to get that stupid, self-satisfied smirk off of his face. He was interrupted by his own moan at the sweet sensation of Kaiba grabbing and kneading at his ass. It was sexy as hell, and he felt so wanted. Like Kaiba was drinking in every second of his time with him. Like the last four years had faded away—or maybe never happened.

Joey knew enough signature moves to reduce his partner to a quivering mess. He decided to run his own nails over Kaiba’s scalp and was instantly pleased when Kaiba purred into his mouth. Putty in his hands.

As they proceeded, Kaiba continued to make desperate, needy noises. After his shifted his hips up and whimpered, Joey determined that something was up.

Well, something else.

After he pulled back and rose shakily to his own feet, he offered a hand to his partner.

Kaiba stumbled. He caught himself, but only by relying on Joey’s stability. He looked a little dizzy just to be standing.

“Goddammit. You’re really drunk Kaiba. And you probably didn’t even take breaks or shifts on the flight over, so you’re exhausted too,” Joey sighed.

Joey should have caught on faster, should have known better.

“This is so totally you, so fucking classic. You haven’t changed. This is why I fucking left, and never looked back. You’re exhausted and want to pull something and just… I really just get the dregs of you. Like you give your all to every single thing on earth, anything, so that you’re a mess by the time that you get to me. I’m the last priority every damn time, below even your desire to fuck off.”

“Jou…” Kaiba said his name on the exhale, and it evaporated in the room.

“You haven’t changed a bit in three years. I’m wasting my breath, you’re too much of a mess to even appreciate this. But I’ll tell you I feel like you bought me, and our relationship comes last. I’m your child-rearing assistant, the head nanny, and you don’t even have to try to be my partner.” Joey could feel his face going read with anger. “I get the worst of you, every time.”

Kaiba was silent. One of the most frustrating things about Seto was that no matter what he was going through, the processing power of his mind was rarely genuinely diminished.

“I am a good father.” Kaiba said, more to himself than to Joey.

“Yeah, but you’re a shit husband.”

Joey regretted it the second he said it. Hearing it out of his mouth felt unpleasant, like he was possessed by someone else. Someone a lot crueler, more dismissive.

Kaiba had no comment, no stinging rejoinder. He leaned onto Joey’s shoulder, long brown strands falling against the flannel bathrobe.

“C’mon, you can sleep in the guestroom.” Joey’s arm wound around Kaiba’s waist as he dragged him through the hallway.

#seto kaiba #Kaiba Seto #Jounouchi Katsuya #Joey Wheeler #puppyshipping #Violetshipping #fanfiction #fanfic #yugioh #ygo #ygo:dm #my fic #i wrote this #damn i did

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