Title: Winter Pastures (Original title: I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues)

Author: Bardicsidhe

Pairings: Past Tristan Taylor x Duke Devlin, Past Seto Kaiba x Duke Devlin

Rating: R for language and adult content. Contains slash. Don't read if you're not immune.

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! and all of its facets don't belong to me. All of the events portrayed here are fictitious. This fiction is not sponsored by the Amarillo Board of Tourism.

Summary: A decade down the road. Tristan's twenty-five, with all of the horrors of Duel Monsters and the love he shared with best friend Duke Devlin behind him. But when his new life and new start in America is turned upside down by a visitor from his past a year later, he has a chance to make things right again. But things are hardly ever that easy.

Notes: Winter Pastures was originally a songfic to complement the song "I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues," performed by Elton John. It's gotten far, far longer than I ever intended, and since the song no longer fit much more than the first chapter, I ripped it out. I've been doing some major overhauling to this fic, with more changes to come. No major plot changes, just consistency things and the beta that it badly needed years ago.

Half the people in the world are men. Why does it have to be you that stirs me?

The question - half stolen from a favorite movie - reached the chill winter air in a wordless sigh. The reason for the thought, and the wryly amused smile that followed was hanging over the workbench in Tristan Taylor's garage. His eyes caught the picture of the three of them - himself, Serenity Wheeler, and Duke Devlin, posed in their formal attire with cheesy smiles and victory signs. They stood on the long front steps of the cathedral where the young woman in the center of the photograph had been married.

Unorthodox since the moment she discovered her independence, Serenity had two best men, rather than a bridesmaid. After all, who better than the pair of boys she loved as brothers since…well…

Since she'd caught them acting like a little less than brothers. With each other.

That was ten years ago. Serenity got married three years ago, right? And Dev…

He hadn't seen Duke in a year. At least…not in person. Not since they'd broken up for the last time.

Though it was hard to miss the bastard standing next to Seto Kaiba in the magazine glossies, complete with a smile and another expansion set to Dungeon Dice Monsters. "Billionaire gaming giants Kaiba Corp. and Industrial Illusions join forces for new holographic research," the headline read.

The tabloids scripted the truth even more eloquently. "Love in the cards for Kaiba-Devlin Duel Monsters Merger. Mutual friend tells all…"

Fuck.

He'd tried not to believe it…tried to believe that Duke couldn't possibly see anything in that overdressed, self-absorbed egomaniac. When neither party denied the relationship, Tristan realized that he couldn't deny it, either. They were brilliant inventors, successful businessmen, and wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. It made sense.

Tristan moved to America shortly afterward. Because, given the circumstances, that made sense.

He worked off and on in small towns across the country, making his way slowly west, and south. He didn't need to. Frugal and cautious, Tristan had a respectable amount of cash at his disposal by the time he left Japan. But he had plans for that.

When he reached Texas, Tristan decided to put a few plans in motion, and began scouring the realty magazines.

By January, he'd put a down payment on a home, and invested most of his savings in a custom motorcycle garage now in Amarillo. Business had grown to a point that Tristan was considering hiring another mechanic. He wasn't rich, but he could pay his bills on time.

Though it put him utterly out of reach of Duke and Kaiba's world.

In Tristan's opinion, the further away, the better.

To them, he was just another one of their marketing statistics. 20-25-year-old male, self-employed, automotive engineering, $80,000 annual gross income.

He was someone they tried to sell to. Honestly? Didn't sell to. His demographic was way outside the industry's targets. So as far as they were concerned, he was a statistic they didn't even highlight on the spreadsheet.

Bastards.

Tristan glared at the picture over the seat of the old Triumph he was re-styling, and refused to acknowledge its presence thereafter.

Not for another twenty-four hours, at least.

Tristan was in the middle of heating another makeshift late-night dinner of popcorn in the microwave when the phone rang. It'd be Joey, of course - Serenity's older brother and Tristan's best friend all through high school. Nobody called this late at night except Joey. Dammit, couldn't the guy ever remember that Japan was on the opposite side of the world, and that morning for him wasn't necessarily morning for everybody else? He waited until the fifth ring to be sure that whoever-it-was really wanted to talk to him, and poked the 'stop' button on the microwave before it scorched the popcorn. Then, he reached for the cordless receiver on the counter and padded into the living room. The Speed Channel was airing Vintage British Motorcycle Week, and dammit, if Joey wanted to talk to him that bad, he could afford to share Tristan with the Nortons and the Triumphs for a few minutes.

"Hello?" He asked, skeptically.

"Tris…?"

It wasn't Joey. There was only one person who ever called him by that nickname.

Tristan froze.

"Tris…are you there?" The voice on the other end sounded concerned.

"Y-yeah. Hey, buddy, how're you?" He recovered quickly, though not without a hard swallow. "Haven't heard from you in a long time, man."

He needed to sit down. The couch was the closest and Tristan all but fell into it, ordering his treacherous adrenaline to ease off before his hands shook.

"I know." Was there an apology in the tone? "I've wanted to call you for a long time."

"Hey, it's okay. Looks like you've been too busy, anyway." Somehow, Tristan kept the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Yeah, a little, but I still wanted to talk to you. Missed you, man."

Shit. Guiiiilt, guilt guilt guilt.

Tristan let the arm of the couch take all of his weight, and dropped his forehead into the palm of his hand. The last time Duke said that to him had been the evening he returned from a long business trip abroad. The words had come as he'd been tucked in bed against Tristan's side, sated, his skin bearing the metallic tang of sweat and sex. Even more than a year later, Tristan could still remember the warm, sticky pressure of the other's skin, stretched out against him while he slept.

Amazing what a single phrase could dredge up.

He realized too late that it was a bad time to be daydreaming over the past. For a brief instant, the never-ending restraint crumbled, releasing the words that pressed against the back of his teeth. They slipped out before Tristan could catch them. "I've really missed you, too."

There was a long pause on the other end of the conversation.

Tristan caught the dangling end of the slack before it ate up the entire phone call.

"So you and Kaiba, huh? Read about it in one of those gamer magazine…things." Nope, not the tabloids. He was never going to admit to reading those things. Even though Elvis wasn't dead, Bat-Boy was still held captive at some research facility, and yes, a huge red dragon had been spotted over Battle City. "Funny, back when we were kids I spent most of my time being pissed at him."

"Tristan…"

"Things are working out pretty good here. I've got my own place, my own shop, and the old gang even calls me every once in a while. I don't suppose I'll ever see as much money in a lifetime as Seto makes in a year, but eh, I'm happy. I guess." Tristan was rambling, and he knew it. But he wasn't still torn up after a year of being without Duke, and he wasn't about to let the other man think anything of the sort.

"You are?" He couldn't properly read Duke's tone through all this distance, but Tristan fancied it was incredulity. After all, could Duke imagine anyone ever getting over his devastating charms?

Of course not. It was one of those things that just didn't happen.

"Yep. Pretty much. It's kind of nice here, Dev. If you and Kaiba ever get the chance, you oughta fly over here and see what you're missing," He grinned against the receiver. "they've got real trees here. Big ones."

"Actually, I was considering that."

"Oh, really? You two going to take a vacation, or something?"

"Well, it'd be just me."

The air density thickened. It hurt to draw a breath. Tristan's heart flipped over; leaped into his throat to displace the choking lump of unspoken words.

"Do you think that would be okay? Would you mind showing an old friend around?" Duke asked the silence, when Tristan didn't answer.

Stop reading things into it, Taylor. There's no reason for it. Old friends…that's what you are now. Old friends. But what if…

His niggling subconscious started in, and a fine thread of hope pierced a heart where for a year, none had existed.

No 'what if.' You know where that takes you. Tristan ordered himself firmly, suddenly aware of how long he'd been keeping Duke waiting for an answer. Okay? It was better than just okay!

His heart started beating again, in the proper place.

"Sure, Dev. That'd be great. When are you thinking of coming overseas?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Not a fan of advance notice, are you, buddy?" Tristan blinked in surprise. Well, he had that kind of money. People as rich as Duke could apparently dash off for anywhere at the drop of a hat.

"I was packed to go anyway." The sudden clipped change of tone in the other man's voice indicated that perhaps this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment journey. And not exactly a pleasure cruise.

Besides, Tristan knew his ex, inside and out. His explanations were thorough and obvious, and rarely left anything hanging unless he wasn't supposed to say it in the first place. And whether Duke liked to admit it or not, his expressive voice made him very easy to read.

"Dev, what's wrong?"

Another long pause.

"I'll…tell you later."

He hung up.

Tristan listened to the dial tone in mild disbelief for a moment or two. Then, he took the cordless back to the kitchen and collected his bag of popcorn. It was cold and he wasn't all that hungry anymore, but eating was better than thinking.

He wasn't sure he wanted to think at all, for a while.