A/N: This universe is post-canon in the loosest sense (i.e. a good bit of canon details are here, but a few are totally different). The nature of the ship, Jou/Seto, makes for a bit of a darker beginning, but I promise they will earn their ending.

Chapter One

The fading wisps of sunset streaked across the sky, the street deserted as night fell over the city. Jou continued down the block, plastic bag hanging from the crook of his arm and an energy drink fizzing in hand. It was only six, but his eyelids had been drooping since he'd finished his shift a half an hour earlier. He took another gulp of his drink, wincing as the carbonation burned down his throat and hoping the jolt would kick in sooner rather than later.

On the street, a car sped past him, bumping over a pothole, before taking a hard left at the red light, taillights flashing. Jou shoved his free hand in his pocket, wishing that he had taken Dell up on his offer to drive him home for once instead of making the twenty minute trek back to his apartment on his own. The chill of late autumn had begun to numb his fingers and toes, the tips of his ears stinging with the early bite of winter.

He picked up speed as he crossed the street, downing the rest of the can and tossing it on top of the pile of trash overflowing from the nearest trashcan. The south side of Domino wasn't known for its cleanliness or low crime rate, but it was the only borough he could scrape together enough of the little money he made apprenticing as a plumber under Dell to make rent each month.

The smell of chicken grease hung heavy in the air as he passed the corner fast food joint, dark smoke belching from the roof's exhaust. He was three blocks from his apartment and already imagining cranking the radiator and crashing in front of the TV when he saw the group gathered on the sidewalk ahead of him.

The light on the street had been busted for weeks, and he squinted in the darkness as he closed in. There were three of them, teenagers dressed in jeans and dark jackets, their voices low as the circled around someone like sharks waiting for the first drop of blood. The scuffle of tennis shoes was the only sound before the sharp crack of a fist against bone, denim scraping concrete as someone slid across the sidewalk.

"Oi!" Jou said. The three figures whipped around to face him, faceless in the darkness. "Get the fuck out of here!"

The only sound was the pounding of rubber as the boys took off down the street, peeling out down the block. Jou shook his head, reaching the figure on the ground and blinking down at the familiar face. Mokuba Kaiba was clutching his cheek, dark eyes looking up at him with the same reproachful glare his older brother was famous for.

"Mokuba?" Jou said. "What the hell are you doing here?" He offered a hand, hauling the kid to his feet. The youngest Kaiba brother had grown since he'd last seen him, shooting up at least a foot in the year since last Kaiba Corp tournament he and Yugi had competed in. His hair was gone, sheared down to a buzz cut that he'd probably hoped would add some grit to his face but only accentuated the wide, dark eyes that looked up at him.

Mokuba prodded his cheek, wincing. "Nothing."

"Your brother know that you are down here getting your ass kicked?" Jou said.

The kid was silent.

"So what are you doin' here then?"

"It's none of your business," Mokuba said, lip curled in a scowl. At sixteen, the kid had either finally hitched a ride on the hormone train or had just been spending too much time with his older brother.

"So if I gave Kaiba a call right now," Jou said, fishing out his cellphone, "he'd know you were getting your face smashed in in the middle of the hood?"

Mokuba shoved his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. "You two hate each other. Why would you have his number?"

It's a long story, kid.

Jou punched a few buttons on his phone, raising it to his ear as Mokuba eyed him. The first ring sounded from the speaker, and he clamped down on the kid's arm as he soon as turned on the ball of his foot, knees bent like a track star getting situated on his starting block.

He'd gotten the number from Yugi almost a year ago, who still, despite all the trouble he'd caused for them in the past, kept in contact with the oldest Kaiba brother. He'd had every intention of using it once he'd gotten home that day, feeling the weight of it in his contacts folder as he stepped into his apartment that night, ready to end whatever had then just begun between him and Kaiba.

However, the number had sat in the folder for hours, then days, then weeks, collecting virtual dust. It was only after a few months had passed that he'd begun to feel the burden of the unused ten digit string; its existence a continuing reminder that, despite how much he despised him, he was as much to blame for their situation as Kaiba.

Shifting on his feet, Jou tightened his grip as the kid leaned forward, taking a breath as the line clicked on the second ring.

"What?" Kaiba snapped.

Mokuba squirmed, trying to free himself.

"Hello to you to princess," Jou said. "How's it going? Haven't seen you in a while – managed to get that stick out of your ass yet?"

"Don't waste my time," Kaiba said, after a moment, as if trying to process how and why he had his number. "Some of us don't spend our days unclogging people's toilets."

"Just thought you'd want to know that I've got your brother here with me," Jou said, tightening his grip on Mokuba's arm. "He's got a nice bruise on his face from some new south side buddies of his – didn't want to let me know what he was doing down here in the dark, so I figured you might want to send someone to get him."

There was a beat of silence on the other end. "Give him to me."

Jou held out the phone. "He wants to talk to you."

Mokuba ripped the phone from his hand, glaring at him as he raised it to his ear. "Hello?" He turned his head, chin drooping. "I wasn't doing anything! I was just – " He stopped, letting out a long breath. "Fine. Okay. Yes. I said yes, Seto. I will." He thrust the phone back in Jou's hand, narrowed eyes meeting his. He yanked his arm free, massaging the skin there before pulling his hood up and over his head.

"When the hell did your brother get as pissy as you?" Jou said, watching the youngest Kaiba brother as he kicked a pebble down the street, dinging as it hit a cellar cover.

"I'll be an hour," Kaiba said.

"Wait – " Jou said, stopping as the line went dead.

Asshole.

He shoved the phone in his pocket, frowning. "Your brother is a real piece of work." He grabbed Mokuba's shoulder, ignoring the jerk of the kid's frame as he shook him off. "Come on. I'm not waiting out here in the cold. It's only two blocks to my apartment. You can wait there for him."

The walk to his building was spent in silence other than the periodic scuff of the kid's shoes against the sidewalk. He dug out his keys, and Mokuba punted an empty soda bottle into the street. Jou shook his head as he opened the front door. It had only been a little over a three years since he graduated high school, but he remembered what a little shit bag he'd been before he'd met Yugi years earlier – too pissed off to think straight, making dumb choices, and flying off the wall at the tiniest slight.

Ushering the kid inside, they made the climb up to the fourth floor. His fingers were numb as he fumbled with the keys, taking a few extra seconds with the lock before shouldering the door open. He flipped on the lights, making a beeline for the radiator and cranking it.

The apartment was cramped, the living room and kitchen melded together in one large room, separated only by the division of linoleum to carpet, and a narrow hallway leading to the bedroom and bath. Paint chipped from the walls; the windows were as a thin as tissue paper; and the carpet needed a good steaming, but it was home – had been since he graduated high school and got out from under his father's roof.

Behind him, the door squeaked shut, and he turned to Mokuba, still standing at the doorway.

"Lock the deadbolt and the door lock," Jou said. He tossed his bag on the table, stripping off his jacket as the radiator hissed to life. "You don't leave the door open in neighborhoods like this – never know who will try and walk in."

"Why live here then?" Mokuba said. He hadn't moved, eyeing the carpet as if it might split open and swallow him whole.

"We don't all have the money to live in a mega mansion," Jou said. "Besides I grew up in shitty places like this – doubt I could survive anywhere else."

He walked into the kitchen, propping open the freezer as the locks clicked behind him. The floor creaked as he grabbed a pack of peas, turning to find Mokuba sinking down into a kitchen chair.

"You hungry?"

Mokuba looked at him.

"Yeah? No?"

Silence.

Had he really been such a little shit just a few years earlier? He tossed the peas, swallowing his smile as the kid fumbled to catch the bag before it hit him in the chest.

"I don't have any ice," Jou said. "Put that on your cheek before your eye swells up."

The bag crinkled as Mokuba pressed it against his face, the bottom of his scowl still visible from beneath the packaging.

Jou crossed the room, flipping on the TV and tossing the remote on the table. "Here," he said. "Put on what you want.

He grabbed his bag, fishing out the head of lettuce he'd bought at the bodega and moving to the kitchen. The burner fired to life as he lit the gas, starting on dinner as the channel changed behind him. They were silent for the next twenty minutes, the sizzle of food frying in the pan and television filling the quiet. By the time, dinner was ready, Mokuba was slumped down in his chair, balancing the peas on his face, his eyes closed and hands in his pockets.

Jou plunked down the plates, earning a one eyed glare from the kid who took the bag from his cheek, revealing the beginnings of a nasty bruise forming on his cheekbone.

"Are those cucumbers?" Mokuba said. He wrinkled his nose at the bowl that Jou set in front of him. "I hate cucumbers."

"Eat your damn salad," Jou said. He shook his head, removing the leftover sausages and peppers he'd reheated on the burner and putting the pan on the table.

Mokuba stabbed the lettuce with his fork, and Jou wondered if he was imagining his fork going through his head and not the tomato he had just pierced.

"You shouldn't talk to me like that," Mokuba said. He shoveled down a mouthful of salad, picking around the cucumbers as he went.

"Like what?"

"Like you're in charge of me."

Jou filled the kid's plate before his own. "You act like a kid, you get treated like a kid."

"I'm not acting like a kid."

"Trying to run away when I've got your brother on the phone, copping an attitude, messing around with street kids?" Jou said. "I never remember you pulling that kind of shit when you were younger."

Mokuba pushed away his empty bowl, moving onto his plate. "You don't know me."

"You're right," Jou said. He started on his salad as Mokuba began demolishing the sausages on his plate. "But I do know you're smart enough to know better than to be hanging around this neighborhood after dark for no reason."

The kid was silent as he chewed his food.

Jou looked at him. "So are you going to tell me what the deal is?"

More silence.

Shaking his head, Jou started in on his plate, wondering if dealing with the sixteen-year-old sitting in front of him was some kind of small retribution for putting the adults in his life through his own angry, angsty teenage screw the world act.

By the time they finished dinner, Jou was ready to face plant into his mattress. He had been working under Dell for three years, but by the end of the day, he was beat. He'd gotten the apprenticeship a few weeks out of high school, but he still had another year's worth of experience hours before he'd be eligible to take the licensing exam.

It wasn't the most glamorous of career options. Ninety percent of the time he was crawling around basements and bathrooms, and getting sprayed with sewage and water of varying cleanliness, but it was a job – a good one – with benefits and even a few sick days.

He started clearing the plates, shooting Mokuba a look over his shoulder.

"You going to help or sit there and sulk until your brother shows up?" Jou said.

The chair scraped across the floor as he filled the sink, half relived when Mokuba brought over the dishes without argument. Jou handed the dish towel to him, sending a pointed glance towards the glasses he'd just washed. The kid let out a heavy sigh but picked up a cup, drying it and the rest of the dishes Jou handed him as the TV droned behind them. They'd just finished the stack when apartment buzzer sounded.

Jou crossed the living room, pressing the intercom. "Yeah?"

"Let me in," Kaiba snarled through the speaker.

Jou hit the door button. He just wanted the kid and Kaiba out of his hair so he could take a damn shower and wash the musty smell of Ms. Herold's basement off, and have a few minutes of peace and quiet. Unlocking the door, Jou leaned against the wall, waiting. It only took a few seconds before Kaiba banged inside.

Kaiba was dressed in white button down and slacks, pristine and pressed as always. He'd shed the boots and leather capes once they'd graduated high school, his wardrobe going corporate as he took full ownership of Kaiba Corp when he'd turned eighteen.

He was as thin as ever, all sharp angles as he stepped into the living room, dark eyes finding his before searching the room, centering on his brother. Stalking into the kitchen, he stared down at the kid, his face unreadable, eyes drifting to the bruise darkening on his cheek.

"Let's go," Kaiba said after a moment.

He turned on his heel, moving across the room, his entire body rigid with a tightness that Jou knew only gave out right after he'd climaxed. The emotionally constipated CEO may not have spared him a glance as he walked out of the apartment, but Jou knew he'd be back soon – not that night, but in the weeks to come – buzzing his apartment, stalking inside, snarling something at him before they crashed together.

He could work the routine in his sleep.

Mokuba shot him a long glance as he followed, stepping out into the hallway. The kid had his hand on the door handle, pulling it shut behind him before he stopped, hesitating.

"Bye," Mokuba said. He yanked the door closed behind him.

Jou tacked on a 'thank you for feeding me and saving me from getting my head smashed in' for him in his head as he did up the locks, stripping his shirt over his head as he headed for the shower.