Well, Lily, I said I'd write a pupship thing so here it is.

Notes : 1. things are about to get hella gay. As per the classic adage, don't like don't read. 2. I'm experimenting with first person again. It's a little… harrowing. See above adage. I did it to keep from name dropping so often which is a little awkward to work around imo. 3. This was originally published under another acct. but I have since made this new acct. exclusively for puppyshipping stuff.

Enjoy? Maybe.

. : Reprise : .

For a moment, only the softest sound greeted others of slow morning traffic outside.

Tender chimes along ceramic.

I sat near the window where the air was cool and damp, methodically swirling the contents of a teacup with a thin spoon.

"Ya' know, this isn't too bad."

There was a face turned in my direction. Tired eyes and a slow smile.

"Define 'this'."

I held the spoon aside and lifted the cup. The taste was like a warble, warm and suddenly so.

For a time, we didn't speak.

He thought. Figured out I didn't expect an answer any more than he could find the words to supply it.

I was content to watch.

Cars pulled lazily up to lights and signs.

Here and there people shuffled down the street, one man under a red umbrella beneath a greyed sky.

Just in case.

Returning to tea, I noted the gaze on me and my own fell to the milky contents of my cup.

"Ah, sorry," he chirped from the opposite chair. "Didn't mean to stare."

Silence was taken for a request for explanation.

"Just kinda pretty, that's all."

Well that raised more questions than answers, as well as one brow.

"See?" He gestured at me. "Even that thing ya' do with ya' eyebrows."

Of course I stopped. Took up my cup. More tea less nonsense.

"I meant you. You're pretty."

The teacup clattered against the saucer in hand.

My pulse stumbled in its steadiness and the only sound I could manage was an exasperated sigh. "Joey."

"What? Nobody's ever told ya' that before?"

That didn't need an answer.

Let alone an honest one.

I went back to my tea only to find him beaming at me. Of course that didn't mean anything good. The arm of the chair squeaked under my quick grip.

"What?"

The vigilance wasn't all for naught. Joey pushed to the edge of his chair, a knee ramming into mine accidentally. He was sputtering apologetically as I set the cup and all aside, tea trailing down the side of my palm.

"Sorry…"

He was up in a moment, poking through the elements atop a nearby table. Linen in hand, he dropped back into his chair and slid forward carefully forward, reaching for my hands.

Entirely unnecessary.

"I can do it myself."

"Shut up, wouldja'?"

It was his fault anyway, I rationalised, only half watching him press fabric around my hands. In time, he let go and his eyes fell to his own hands and the stained cloth there.

"I, uh, just wanted to say thanks... This was nice, like I said."

I couldn't help it.

My shoulders shook.

I saw him cringe in return, pressing back into his chair as if to retract from some inevitable outburst.

This build in my chest… Pressing at my lungs… Then suddenly it lifted and out came the last thing he'd have expected.

Laughter.

With a squawk, he threw his hands up in defence. Then lowered them slowly and stared.

I really should have stopped, I knew. But the sounds continued to slip between the fingers I had clasped over my mouth.

"Whataya' laughin' for?"

Collecting myself, I sat back in my chair, smoothing non-existent wrinkles out of my shirt.

He looked as if he knew he ought to be embarrassed but wasn't sure why.

"Well?" he pressed.

I sucked in a breath when the pressure came back, tried to exhale slowly lest I break into laughter all over again.

"Nothing." I really couldn't help the strain in my voice. "You thought it was… nice."

Though, I hadn't disagreed.

There wasn't a word for the warm blur. The past then the present. The quiet clarity. Or so I'd thought.

Nice.

That would do.

"Ah whatever." Joey waved grandly. "What good are ya' anyway?"

"Considering the state you're in..."

I walked an empty teacup to the table where the half-filled kettle sat, warming.

"What?" he exclaimed only to figure it out. "Oh."

The sudden quiet was expected yet its enduring less so. Too late, the reason for it occured to me.

"Didn't expect that from you of all people…"

With a glance over the shoulder I found him scratching at the back of his neck.

Me, of all people.

I felt it settle back upon my face. The mask. Then I spoke. Brusque. Perfect. Enclosed. The outside scarcely matching the inside. As different as white and black.

"Are you going to sit there all morning?"

It was over now.

Or, it would be soon.

Still somewhat red in the face, he got up and wandered around the room. Searching. Tugging his shirt from a twist in scratchy hotel-grade sheets, he pulled it on then his jacket.

"Ya' happy?"

Though I spared him a look, I found no need to comment.

The city was coming alive with sound. Slowly. Though muted through the windows of the café.

Plates scraped across the tabletop. His chair creaked with his lean forward, his giving up and reaching across the table to pull the couple untouched dishes from before me.

He'd asked if I was hungry. And I hadn't answered. There wasn't a way to say yes and no. There was something there. Hunger. Not to be appeased with expensive, delicate bits but with something more.

Flesh.

Blood.

He had elbows on the table. Fingers picking apart an orange with care I wasn't aware he was capable of.

He wasn't so much different than I remembered.

A book with worn binding. Pages yellowed and dog-eared. His hair. Easy to go back to. Him. Smooth a hand over. His body. Eye inky black marks and just barely remember what they first felt like. His tattoos. Lift to simply breathe in thick aromatics. His...

Wide eyes met mine, absent chews slowing to a stop. I dropped my gaze from the inadvertent stare.

I was sure desire was misplaced. My mind embroidering between scant details of the prior night. Supposing at an encore of something undeserving of one.

Email after email, my phone noted, and unfortunately nothing news-related. Nothing to keep my attention from what lingered on the edges of my mind. Threatening to creep in the second I let go of distraction.

I felt his eyes on me.

"Well I gotta get going. Thanks for breakfast and uh–"

"You're welcome."

Whatever it took to get away faster. Get away from him, that was.

Fingers drummed on the table.

"Let's do this again some time. But, uh, dinner first."

I spared him a glance the moment it took to press my phone back into my pocket.

"No."

Leave it empty.

And the hazy memory just as it was.

We made our way through the now-crowding pavement, people cutting a wide path around. I knew why. And he was still snickering about it when we stopped, the glassy, geometric pattern of an all-too-familiar building front catching his attention.

He turned his head. Flicked hair out of his eyes. Looked some more. Cast the sum of my worth a grin, then me.

"I guess this is you, man."

He was alright with it. Picking back up right where we'd left off. Yesterday. Like last night hadn't happened at all. He didn't intend to fight me on it. The one instance he'd back off.

Of course.

Nothing made sense.

As if to quell the itching, the trembling, my hands curled into fists.

Not yet.

Just.

One last time.

Resolve eased in like a whisper. Too quickly. I liked it too well. It was so damn tangible. Stupid. And perfect. Something just to be sure that there was a reason for it. For why I'd woken up to alcohol afterthoughts jabbing at my temples and him nearly enveloping me.

After that I can let it be.

Before I could think better of it, it was happening. The hand on his shoulder. Almost politely. The lips on his. Just barely.

Shock jumpstarting hearts' rhythms.

Heels scraped pavement as I stepped back, fixated on the grey underfoot as if it were all that mattered right then. As if something had not slipped in, curling to fill up a space I'd been trying to forget was there.

Words stuck uselessly to dry throats. His and mine. For a moment.

"It's…"

Still there. Electric voracity. I hadn't just…

Imagined it.

It hadn't been just the alcohol.

"Yeah."

His eyes on me like déjà vu. I hadn't seen them intent this way before but at the same time I had. Somewhere. Last night. Or some years before. Like that, brow furrowed over them. Sliding over me and seeking something. Once. Again. Like he'd found it and just wanted to check.

One last time.

I turned. Led.

Past whispering doors. Mechanical calls of "good morning". Lights gathering in a silent collection under my skin with every step farther in. His every step at my side. Thrumming in my own ears. The sound of my own blood erratic.

This moment.

Steps ending and silence threading in. Seconds like stinging pinpricks. Needles pressing colour through my skin. Desire. In between the black lines already there. Familiarity.

Silver doors sliding shut quietly. My heart battering my ribcage. Dim rumbles around the walls of an empty elevator. Then dying with the press of a button.

His doing.

My more than allowing. More than willing. Trapped.

Open.

Eager lips and hands. Parting and taking. His jaw. Autumn strands ghosting quivering fingertips then threaded between tugging fingers as I pressed back against the wall and brought him with me.

In so many years this was all I wanted.

That tongue curving about crude utterances to instead be curving around mine. As it was now. Slick. Breaths. Each of his sounds against my mouth. Jots. Smearing heat into me. Please. Again.

To hell with patient, small things.

I wanted more.

You.

Now.

Messily. All over me. Lust in haste and hastier indecision. Wanting. Everything. At the same time. Limbs in tangles. Where to touch first? How? Just feverish mapping to memory. Any place. He liked. I liked. How his hands clutched my hips. Fingertips like points shooting sparks through my skin. How mine twisted up in his shirt.

Until we broke apart. Recollecting thought. Breath. Sight.

His eyes weren't brown. Not entirely. I'd never noticed before. I wanted to notice everything now.

Memorize.

The paths they made over my features. His eyes. In the light they were more. Paled jade clutched in burnished gold fittings. Dark. Luminous.

By my inspiration.

Realisation rose. Burst. Trailed down slow.

He felt… The same need. Roaring incessantly. Seeking. Something to devour. Sink into. Teeth and claws. Tear apart and be…

Satisfied.

Where he'd left he came back. To explore. My mouth with his own. Then the rest. A hand grazing ever lower. Fingers dragging down and with them desire. Ripping through and leaving white hot sparks. At the end of each and every nerve. Another pulse of heat when he grasped the buckle of my belt. Spreading. All of me quivering, desperate for fulfilment.

All at once I couldn't breathe.

And I didn't want this anymore.

Not all this. So much that it is.

Why do I want this now?

Why did I want this the first time?

I let go of him. Disentangled.

"You ah'right?"

I never was.

Am.

I didn't have to look to feel him. Looking. Nearing just to look a little more.

The words were clawing up my throat.

How dare you ask when you already know.

I could've yelled.

And it would've all come spilling out.

How dare you do this again.

All over again.

You already know. You always knew.

What I wanted.

It was all over his face staring up at mine. That afternoon. Years ago. Dirt in smudges across a cheek and the rest of his uniform.

I was so proud of myself for knocking him flat. They'd said it wasn't possible.

And it wasn't.

I'd only had surprise as the advantage, that much clear in the swing he repaid mine with. Square in the chest. Forcing the wind right out of my lungs. And the rest of me stumbling back across the court. Scrambling to get up from where I'd fallen.

And with every ounce of acid I could muster, I told him. Voice hoarse.

"Don't ever touch me like that again."

But…

I don't mean it.

I had to say it for the sake of the ears around us. Another pair adding to the rest every second. Well wishes and congratulations having died. It might've been the whole school watching. And more. Teachers. Parents. I didn't look.

Just take the blame. I'll fix this somehow.

Please.

He understood. Everything. How it would have to be. How I needed it to be. Hidden. If there was even enough to hide.

I knew I was asking too much.

And that he deserved better.

His words had been loud between louder huffs. The side of his fist smearing blood into dirt.

"Jesus… You started it, Kaiba…"

His eyes bored into mine. Saw where the edges of the mask were. Dug his fingers in around mine. Tried. Asked me to let go of it.

I couldn't.

Not yet.

"Fuck off, Wheeler."

Maybe one day.

I had hoped it stung when I hit him. Like he hit me. Where before that I had only hoped that he wouldn't stop. Touching me. That it meant something. That it hadn't just been misdirected curiosities.

God how he'd made me burn. Desires. Burgeoning and wild and young.

Everything burned. My face. This thing in my chest. Liquid. Pulsing. Out there where he could see it dripping red between my fingers.

Out there where he can see it now.

Take it. It's yours.

I don't care.

"Kaiba."

In the elevator the name seemed to echo, if only in my mind.

There was that face. As proud as it is wrinkled. Thick hands through greying hair then seizing me by the uniform.

He didn't know what to do with me that day.

I didn't know what to do with myself.

He'd let go only to clap a hand to my shoulder. Gruffly. Proudly.

I got what I needed.

"Good job, son."

My stomach twisted.

Hurt.

Everything hurt.

"At the foot of the tallest monuments is where the worst trash collects."

I'd wished I could take it all back.

"Never forget that."

God. No.

I did the right thing.

Words repeated over and over and crowding out each one of his slipping between too-polished teeth. Out from a fanged smile.

It wasn't the right thing anymore.

Words tore from me. Quiet. Shaking.

"Don't call me that."

The memories drained away.

"Well… Seto it is."

Something in my chest broke open. Fled. Left tufts like feathers on a window sill.

Back to memorizing.

The way he said it.

The way his lips tilted up into an easy grin. A crooked one.

The way a calloused hand threaded into my hair. Gripped the back of my neck and bid me closer.

Bid me get lost in everything again.

As if I could stop then. As if there were any hesitation. Of lips and tongue. Of my mouth against his. The taste of him like coffee, rich notes within. I didn't have the thought to parse out. Details.

His hands against the wall left mine free. To quest. Return to points across the map. Smooth over indentations. Into grooves and trails. Of his chest. Lines in the mortal shell he'd battered and thrown into fire and refined. More up along his spine. Inky black marks I just barely remembered what they'd first felt like. I inhaled slowly just to breathe him in.

I'd been too intoxicated to place flags. Last night. There was almost nothing in memory. Nothing clear. Just wanton exaltation in my ears. Heat. Hands all over.

Then that moment.

A quivering, luminous rise. Then an arch down through the skies on melting wings.

I needed it again.

Denim scratched at my fingers. A flag all too obvious. Rattles. Deep. In his vocal chords. In my senses. Shaking everything to vibrant life. I…

I couldn't help but wonder what it would sound like again.

My name somewhere within.

Suddenly knuckles rapped the wall. The metal was cold as his palm was warm against my wrist.

"K — Seto."

What?

"Ya' said no earlier… Ya' sure about this?"

Is he serious? He can't be serious.

I ground my teeth, all the more when I found him grinning at me.

"Shut up."

Don't point out the way I want you.

Impatiently.

Honestly.

"So we uh…"

"One last time."

Whatever this was, it'd never happen again, I swore. Clutched the tags around his neck and tugged.

"Ow. Ah'right."

His laugh faded into a smile against my lips.

Warm. Quiet. Familiar. I remembered this suddenly. Next to my ear. Last night. In response to whatever noise had come pouring out of me the moment he…

The memory sent a shudder raking through. It was chased quickly with another. For each movement of his hand. His fingers having slipped down past my belt.

"Too damn quiet."

He meant me and yet the skies would answer. It rained. The downpour soon beating into white noise.

Drumming.

Pulsing.

Where teeth were at my neck. Drawing out just what he was after.

I couldn't help the sound clawing up from my chest. Brand me. Now. Whether I can cover it up or lie while my pulse thunders in my veins, I need to remember. The fingers in his hair would say it for me. Twisting. Tugging back. An elevator wasn't the place for this, I'd realised. Reached. Pressing the buttons that would break the elevator from its stop and send it to the highest floor.

He broke away from me and stared. Chest heaving. Hair a mess. Hands shoving into his pockets perhaps out of habit. Coming to stand there close enough to brush shoulders.

I felt it now. It had been so long I'd nearly forgotten the rush. Electric. Constant. Alive. Settled in my chest and pushing out into my veins with every heartbeat.

My hands rose to right my clothes needlessly. Out of habit. I couldn't care less as I watched the numbers blink steadily higher. In a moment it wouldn't matter what I looked like. It wouldn't matter that there wasn't a name for the path we'd stepped onto. Again.

The past was just that. Something to take from and not to dwell on. The future, however, held infinite possibilities. This one I intended to find out.

. : End : .

Well… First foray into this ship and hopefully I didn't do too badly. While this is marked complete, I'm thinking of adding another chapter. If you'd like to see another, please let me know.