I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!, Seto, Mokuba or Oriental Sakura (the Japanese cherry tree). They were all created by someone else, but used by me to present this futile little plot. It's incest (even though it's not 100% sure the afore mentioned bishonen are really brothers) and, of course, shonen-ai/mild slash. Not quite your cup of tea? The back button calls out to you then ^.^
The Perfect Comeback
by Kitsu
Such a sweet spring afternoon... Who'd ever thought I, Seto Kaiba, the N°1 I-don't-give-a-shit ass, would actually be marveling something as futile to his sucsess and life in general as a few sakura trees in bloom and the weak sunrays that becast themselves among their coloured petals? But then again, nobody can really claim to know me, can they? Not that I mind, at all. Yugi, Joey, Tristan and Thea can have their little 'spiritual bonds' and 'deep friendship speaches' or whatever else they wish to make up as far as the theme goes, though somebody should bother telling them they're making fools of themselves sometime soon. Alias, not me - I'm not planing to waste my time on them.
Though, now as it is, I *am* waisting time. I'm not running my company, I'm not doing any researches for DuelMonsters, I'm not working out - I'm merely standing in the middle of a park, lazily basking in the dying sunlight while the breeze shakes the roze petals above me every now and then, making them swirl all around playfully. Everything seems so... calm. There's not much people here, maybe that's why. All the 'momies' took their noisy children home for dinner and school-kids packed themselves in for homework too. Just the occasional lovebirds sighing on occasional benches, but those are a neccessary evil, as annoying as they might be with their futile attempts of devouring each other.
... me? A 'lovebird'? Pigs'll fly before anything like that happens. Not that I don't consider falling in love. Not that I don't consider *being* in love. Though fact remains that I don't think I'll ever feel the need to proclaim my relationship to every embarassed random stranger that would happen to pass by by climbing down my mate's throat. That's not love - that's exhibitionism, the proof that one isn't sure of his feelings and so has to see the act that he's putting on mirrored in other people's eyes. I'd like to consider myself somewhat stronger than that. Or am I?
"Oniisan..."
I turn, damning the sunset for being beatutifull enough to let me wander in my thoughts. Surely, I'm being awfully thoughtful lately. On the path beyond me stands my outoto, all wrapped up in a thick cobalt jacket, black flared jeans hugging long, not really quite shaped yet, legs, ending in a set of drastic blue and white sneakes, too drastic for my tastes, but he seems to like them quite a lot. A soft woolen scarf, white as snow, rests around his willowy neck and shoulders, enchanted further by silken raven locks falling loosely all over it, framing that sweet boyish face of his, bolding out the neko-ish lines of his deep ebony eyes, those self-aware eyes full of unabashed devotion that seem smiling upon my own...
"Oniisan, here's your crepe," he tells me, smiling, handling me the cheap sweet with unconscious grace that makes my lips twitch in awe. It's a small smile, a really really small one, still he notices it and in a flash he looks like the impersonification of happiness, beaming up at me as if it was Christmass morning. I know he's fond of me to the grave and back and I know I'm somewhat of a role model for him, though it gets frustrating at times as much as it makes me feel special. In his eyes, I'm the best, the most cool, the most beautiful, the strongest, the most intelligent and wise so... I find myself strugling to proove as such too, I'd never let him down. His dreams are the ones that I'd die for if it meant keeping them from shattering.
"Arigatou, Mokuba-chan." I take the crepe from him and take a bite. Strawberry filling. Must say I don't like strawberries much, though lately I feel myself growing fonder of the taste. On our first walk alone in the park, years ago, he wanted to buy me a crepe, though having no particular wishes as far as the flavour was concerned, I let him pick me one. So he picked strawberry, said it made my lips look funny all dyed in pink. He's always bought me strawberry crepe since then. Still beaming, he shuffles by my side and we catch in a rythm of steps, side by side.
Sakura petals fall as the sun sets completely, sinking bahind the horizon. Funny, Europe's likely eatting lunch now and in America a new morning just rose. So manny diferent people the sun warms every day, so much joy, so much grief... so much life. Yet none have quite the cloud that veils over my heart, raing bitter night and day.
"I hate it when the sun sets," I scowl, digging my teeth in the sweet crepe again, as I break the silence. It's not true, but it doesn't really matter, I simply felt like saying that. Thus, I know what my outoto will say.
"Me too," his voice comes to life beside me and my eyes rush to him, noting a scowl all too familiar to my own. A lie familiar to my own.
I pose my eyes on the path again and we walk on in perfect silence. He seems thoughtful tonight too, much like I am. I find myself wondering what's he thinking of... Maybe he's thinking of Yugi, I growl mentally. Or he could be thinking of some... girl he's met? Or he could be thinking nonsense, much like I am, simply letting his mind relax for a while... Nah. Surely he tries to copy me in everything I do, but in his thoughts too? That would be a bit too much. Normally though, he would think aloud, asking me opinions or poins of view, yet even if he's not a constant blabber, he seemes awfully quiet today, and he's eating his crepe slower than usual too.
"I'm getting cold," I mumble, finishing off my crepe and tossing its paper in a nerby bin as we walk pass it. Again, another lie.
"Me too," Mokuba replies. I'm slightly annoyd by the automatic sound of his voice, so I rub my hands together as if to dirt off the crepe-remains, and quickly, before I loose my nerve, catch his hand in my own, scooping them both in the pocket of my long black coat. He somewhat freezes in half-step and I feel his eyes on me questioningly, but I dismiss them, my own fixed on the road beyond me, gently pulling him on. Obediently he follows.
Did I want to do that? To hold his hand? I knew what he would reply, so... yes, maybe I did. Maybe. Within my pocket I feel his soft fingers tangling with mine and he has to step closer to me to fall in my pace. He's so... elloquent, yet such a riddle. He likes me, he knows he does, I know he does, he knows I know. I like him, I know I do, he knows I do, I know he knows. And still nothing changes between us. The time I'm spending with him is just so paceful that I'm sure I'd miss it if I'd be denied it. To me, it's worth more then the company, more than DuelMonsters, more than anything, as much of a waste of time it may seem. I give his hand a light squeeze and he squeezes mine back instantly.
"Let's sit down," I propose, not waiting for his answer, not turning to see him nod, I know he would agree anyway. We walk on some more, side by side, surprisingly not entirely too long until finding an empty bench. I sit down slowly, black coat folding with heavy warm folds, and Mokuba scoots up close to my side as his hand is still in my pocket, our fingers entwinned. Unconsciously, I let my eyes glide over his smooth features as he eats the crepe. He's deffinetly got this thoughtful look going on, with his ebony eyes fixed on the path beyond us, unseeing. He doesn't seem spleenful though, his eyes are alit and he keeps biting his lip, much like he was having an internal conflict. He's so cute with that concentrated look on his face that I can't stand it.
"What's your crepe taste like?" I ask him, snapping him out of his revire.
His eyes refocus suddenly and those long crow locks resettle over this scarf and shoulders as he turns to eye me, ebony eyes softer than what I remember. "Chocolate-banana," he tells me, then his pouty lips break into a tight little smile and he's offering it to me, brought inches from my lips, "want a bite?"
Now, I'm the one to frieze. His offer may not be as simple as it sounds, and as I let my night-sky eyes scan his softened ebony ones I actually find that sparcle that I've been searching for. I should have been afraid of it, I should have feel reluctance or worse, repusion... but I don't. The fact that I knew it was there all along doesn't let me to. Some say seeing something like that in your brother's eyes is wrong, is sick, is twisted... yet what I see looks very clear, very pure and equally right. Though maybe it's just me that sees it that way, so maybe I'm the only one that sees it too. Maybe it's not there at all, never was...
I take a bite. Slowly, carefully, my eyes never leaving his. I feel the crepe moist against my lips, proof of where his were moments ago. Mokuba's lips, sweet virgin lips... I nible softly at the spot and he's suddenly swallowing hard, eyelids growing somewhat heavier and eyes stained by a heavy emotion, perhaps a too heavy one for his age. Still, it doesn't feel wrong, nor does it feel that it should, so I stash my teeth in softly, delicately, letting my tongue dip into the sweet filling, tasting it fully. And Mokuba 's watching me, mesmerised and flushed like I've never saw him before. The flesh of the crepe parts and I munch on the small piece I've detached, drawing away. "Tastes good," I tell him, failing to stop a knowing smirk from creeping onto my face.
His cheeks are a blooming scarlet, I can tell even in the falling darkness. At the sound of my voice he seems to come to and his eyes drop to the path at our feet again. He brings the crepe to his lips quickly trying to hide his nervousnes and failing totally. I watch him press his lips where mine were excitedly, wanting to catch my essence, my taste, but being too anxious he bites it off almost instantly. He keeps munching on it slowly though, as if thinking something very very hard.
Yes, Mokuba, I know. It's our first kiss, isn't it? An indirect one, but still. The corners of my lips curve into an amused little smile. So what are you going to do about it, outoto?
Suddenly his features harden in resolve, yet as he eyes me again, I can see his ebony depths shimmering with... shame? He offers me the sweet again, though in a quieter voice this time. "Want some more?"
Always, outoto, always. My hand covers his as I guide the crepe to my mouth to kiss the sweet taste of his lips that awaits me there. He watches me again, bewitched, and my lips move by their own accord, ravishing the sweet as though it was what I want it to be. I taste the creme again, parting it slowly, teasingly, and I trust my tongue inside, once, gliding over the bulges I feel are his fingertips beyond the layer of crepe-mixture, and he looks ready to keel over, his eyes are so wide.
I'm drawing back again with the piece of crepe in my mouth, as suddenly his hand squirms from our grip on the sweet. It cups my cheek instead, keeping me in the spot, and before I know it, I can't see his eyes anymore, he's too near for that. Soft lips are poised against my own, unsure, nervous, nibbling their way closer, wanting, craving... only haing no clue what.
Though I have a clue. I lean in, claming them softly. I hear him gasp against my lips, but I close my eyes, locking the world out of my mind, out and far away, and just feel, feel his soul merge with mine. I take his lips, feel them, stroke them with mine, teasing, begging for entrance. And he's learning, reacting, brushing, feeling, parting them for me. Unable to contain the whirlwind of emotions I slowly push my way in, touching him inside, tasting him finally. He whimpers with sensory overload, clutching my hand within my pocket tightly.
Retreating, I leave the piece of crepe I've bitten off in his mouth, stroking his lips with my tongue one final time. Again, his hand on my cheek keeps me close and his eyes flutter open, fogged by the feelings veiling up in them, while his mouth works over the piece of crepe I left there. We gaze at each other's eyes and I feel my mind blank, filled instead with all that is him and him alone. My dear, dearest outoto... He swallows the piece then, smiling. And I, for one, smile back, with my whole heart this time. I eye the remaing piece of crepe in my hand. Figuring it would cool if not eaten in hurry, I press it to his lips, parting them gently. He eats it, beaming, kissing my fingers afterwards. And that's when I lean in for another taste...
As we part, he slumps against me, head falling on my shoulder and hand gripping mine for dear life. I let him catch breath and then nudge him off the bench. Now I seem to understand all of this lovebird philosophy. Well, part of it. They don't french in front of the world because they need reassurance, but because they're too lost in each-other to notice anything else. Still I don't like to feel eyes on me and Mokuba while kissing, partly because they would be all but looks of disaproval since he's my brother, and mostly because I don't want anyone to interrupt this feeling. So next time we kiss, I'll try to make sure it happens in a private place, not a bench.
Small arms pull me close as we stand, and he nuzzles into my opened coat as the chill brieze shakes the sakura boom until pink flakes snow about us. I plant a longing kiss in his silky raven locks, whispernig; "I love you."
And, smiling in my chest, he comes round with the perfect comeback...
"Me too."
end~
... I know, I know... short. But there wasn't much plot or comon sense behind this one. I don't normally write this knid of *soft stuff*, but I figured with those two it's kinda neded. I dunno why I wrote it (just felt like it?), though I'm sure not for flaming, what do you think? =)