You are all so sweet. Thanks so much for all the reviews. I am so sorry for abandoning this story the way I did. I know how irritating it can be when a story you like just...never gets finished. So! Er... tada!

Chapter 7

The living room clock ticked wearily. Yami matched the idle lull with the dull throb-throb in his head, fingers drumming restlessly against the cushion squashed to his chest. The central heating had been on all night, the house seeping with oppressive mugginess that made every room sweat with condensation. Yami stared at the blank white ceiling, willing himself to fall asleep, and had been since the moment he sprawled across tattered grey cushions mostly stained with jasmine tea and an oil spot from the time Yuugi tried to fix the chain on his bike.

The silence was comforting. Yuugi must have gone to bed long before Yami got home. An empty mug of hot chocolate had been left on the living room table, a pair of sneakers abandoned where they fell. A barely touched bowl of soup was precariously balanced on the corner of the single-seater, along with an open DVD box, the disc never taken out or watched. It was a silly cult film they used to watch together. Yami mournfully slid it back onto the shelf amongst the others.

It was nearing five o clock. An hour earlier he had heard Yuugi's bedroom door open, preparing himself for a long, tiring talk, but minutes later the toilet had flushed and Yuugi returned to his room without coming downstairs once. It was difficult not to feel relieved and, cowardly as it was, he would have happily put it all off for another few hours. His gut told him none of this was going to end well for any of them.

Sleep took him at seven, half an hour before Yuugi would be waking up to get ready for college. He awoke to the sound of the front door opening, the familiar thwump of Yuugi's enormous rucksack saddled with textbooks hitting the hallway floor. "Home!" Yuugi called, Yami's brow knitting slowly. The throw from the sofa was tucked neatly up under his chin, a glass of juice placed tidily on the corner of the table along with a scrawled note. Yami groaned, sticky with sweat. The place had been tidied up while he slumbered away the day, a brand new vase of tulips on the windowsill drawing the room's attention. "Were you still sleeping? You're so lazy, Yami."

Yuugi sank into the other chair with a sigh, smiling dozily at his disgruntled companion rubbing his eyes like a sleepy little boy. "W-what time is it?" he stammered and he heaved up, arms wobbling. "Why didn't you wake me this morning?"

Yuugi was smiling, knees bouncing. "You looked exhausted, Yami, I thought it was kinder to let you get a few hours of sleep. You must have had a good few hours," he answered, leaning across to pick up the glass of juice, gesturing for Yami to take it. Glancing at the note, he snatched it and shoved it into his pocket. "It's after five now. Are you hungry? I thought I might cook a nice curry for us. Oh and I got some saké from that shop in town – you know, the one that sells all of that international food. Jounouchi-kun tried snails from there once as a dare. I've never seen him looking so unwell. It's still snowing, you know. The news says it's going to last all week. Hopefully a few of my classes will get cancelled!"

Yami made a vague sound of acknowledgement, adam's apple bobbing quickly as he drank. Pulling away the glass, he gasped, shedding the throw like a second skin and shuffling to prop his elbows on his knees. His back ached, upper arms protesting the weight of his upper body. Yuugi kept talking like it was going out of fashion, until he sighed and fell quiet, Yami glancing his way. "What?" he asked in response to his awkward little smile. It grew the longer they looked at one another, a trickle of irritation worming up his spine. He loathed those searching looks of Yuugi's. "What? Stop staring at me!"

"Alright!" Yuugi cried, throwing his arms in the air. He hopped to his feet, still smiling, the Cheshire cat with his cream and all his pretty playthings. "I'm going to start on dinner. Why don't you open the saké?"

He winked on his way to the kitchen. Yami rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was dreaming. A succinct pinch to his arm told him otherwise.

*

Yami wondered whatever had possessed him. One might think at his age he might know better than to test his drinking limits, but when it came to Yuugi, sense and reason fell to the back of the line. This explained why Yami was spread across the floor with a bottle of asahi in one hand, Yuugi's fingers in the other. At some point during the evening a cat had been drawn on his shoulder, Yuugi tracing the line of pen with the tip of his finger, clumsily slurping his own beer. It was half past nine, living room basked in muted light. Saké bottle was empty, the crate of asahi half gone. One drained bottle dripped dregs onto the carpet, swaying to and fro, another decorated the windowsill, the single tulip that had been slithered inside sinking drunkenly to its death.

"When was the last time we got drunk together?" Yuugi whispered, rolling the neck of his bottle back and forth across his chin. He took a quick sip when he nearly let it drop, propping his head up on Yami's shoulder. "You used to get so angry with Jounouchi-kun whenever we came home drunk, pretending to be the responsible one when I could see you smiling every time I tripped over something or said something stupid. And it didn't matter how angry you pretended to be, because you always took care of me the next day when I had a hangover."

Yami smiled, curling a lock of Yuugi's hair around his finger. "I remember. You used to crawl into my bed first thing in the morning and tell me your head hurt. Then you kept telling me until I went all the way downstairs to get you water and painkillers, by which point I was already wide awake and ended up making you breakfast."

Yuugi sniggered. "Ah, that always worked so well. You fell for it every time."

Yami gave his nose a retaliatory flick, pinching it when it wrinkled. "I knew what you were doing, believe me."

"I know you did, other me..."

Yami sighed at the nickname, head sinking against Yuugi's. His hair smelt of coconut milk and oranges, the way it always did. It was a scent that drifted around the house like faint, wistful memories, coating everything with the essence of his very best friend. When Yuugi shifted to sit on his knees, Yami squeezed one of his hands, thumb brushing winter-paled skin. "I've missed you," he whispered, eyes feeling dry and heavy. "I mean, really, really missed you. The amount of times I've wanted to just sit down with you and talk like old times. Some things I can't talk to the others about. You always used to understand."

Yami's lips were tugged into a smile, his fingers reaching to touch Yuugi's shoulder, smooth, slight, perfect like every inch of him was perfect, mind, body, soul. "Maybe we can go back to the way things were," he mused, Yuugi's eyes lighting up with unbridled glee. He threw his arms around Yami's neck, holding him as tightly as he used to, whispering 'thank you, thank you, thank you' with every ounce of feeling. Yami felt his mind and body breath, sinking with relief, then he gathered Yuugi tighter, thinking of another place and another time. It was easily spoilt when he whispered, "I saw Anzu last night. She wanted me to talk to you..."

Yuugi sat back on his knees, head hung. He drained his beer in a single gulp, letting the bottle roll from his fingers to join its fallen comrades. "Why didn't you tell me before?" he asked, fiddling with the label on his next beer. He tore a strip from the centre, rolling it between his fingers and flicking it halfway across the room. Yami shrugged. "You should have said earlier, Yami. I bet you wouldn't have told me if you weren't drunk."

Eyes narrowing, Yami rose up haughtily, insulted. "Even if I didn't intend to tell you, I was never going to do what she asked me to. You should be talking to the her and you know you should. She deserves a decent explanation, so don't be angry with me. I didn't ask you to kiss me and I didn't ask you to tell Anzu about it, either."

"I know!" Yuugi snapped, throttling the neck of the bottle. He sank to the ground again, defeated. "I know I should be talking to her. I know this is unfair on her, but I need the time just to think for a while. To spend time with you. If...if you want to spend time with me still? I'm not angry with you. I've never been angry with you, just worried and...scared."

"Promise you will talk to her soon," Yami said, tugging Yuugi's hands to his lap. Pleased with the affection, Yuugi nodded slowly. His smile was sweet, familiar, the smile of the little boy Yami knew from so many years ago. It was full of love and trust and forgiveness. Bringing trembling fingers to his lips, he kissed each one in turn. "I'm glad we're spending time together again, Yuugi. I--"

He should have expected Yuugi to kiss him. Emotional, drunk, confused. But the problem was that Yami felt exactly the same way, so he didn't stop Yuugi's hands from sliding eagerly into his shirt to tug it free, nor stop him when he clumsily clambered onto his lap, kisses desperate and wanton. Yuugi's passion was sudden like the woosh of lit fireworks, fingers surprisingly dextrous and clever in their pursuit for warm, dark skin. Tendrils of arousal spread from Yami's groin. He helped slim hips to rock and grind, lips suckling the lightest speckle of stubble beneath Yuugi's chin.

With effortless grace Yami lifted Yuugi from his lap and lowered him to the floor, shifting between thin legs that quickly curled around him. Yuugi's shrill ringing tone interrupted, excitement fizzling, hissing as it died. "J-just ignore it!" he panted, dragging Yami down to his lips when he lifted his head towards the sound, lips ripe and wet. It didn't stop. Yami reluctantly pulled free of the clinch to grab the infernal thing and sighed.

"Anzu," he said, revealing the screen. Yuugi's head lolled in disappointment, Yami sitting back. He passed a hand over his face, shifting uncomfortably. "Answer it, Yuugi. You can't ignore her."

Making a sound of protest, Yuugi rose. "A-after just now? H-how can I?"

Yami climbed to his feet. "Answer it," he growled, sweeping to retrieve his shirt and tug it over his head. He adjusted his trousers, Yuugi staring at the flashing LCD screen like he had never seen it before. When it finally stopped ringing, Yuugi's shoulders heaved, body tumbling like a ragdoll. Yami shook his head. "I'm not going to be the one coming between you. Call her back. I'm going for a shower."

*

"You could have gotten a taxi. I would have paid for it, idiot." Kaiba handed Yami a mug of green tea, then sat in the chair beside him, rearranging his dressing gown around his legs. Yami hadn't said a word since he arrived at the gates. His feet were cold and wet, his mood no less chilly. Perhaps it was cruel the way he ran out on Yuugi, but if he didn't leave he would have done something he would regret the next morning and he didn't want to make things any messier than they already were. Yuugi had to tell Anzu the truth – she was owed it, as their friend – but she would never forgive either of them for deceiving.

It became evident Kaiba was becoming annoyed by the silence when he started to shuffle, crossing and uncrossing his legs, chewing the inside of his lip, needlessly stirring his own mug of tea and then offering the spoon. "Have you just come to my mansion to be an annoying little bastard?" he snapped, hoping Yami would rise to the bait. When he didn't, he huffed, pouting like a bratty little boy. The silence dragged on and Kaiba wondered if he was meant to keep talking. He had never known the man to be so damned quiet. "Well I presume there have been developments with Yuugi. Did he tell that woman the truth? I don't imagine she reacted very well. Look at the comparison. What is it she does? Dance? Dancing versus the duellist champion of the world, honestly, who would anyone rather have? I'm surprised Yuugi didn't – Yami?"

Yami was standing in front of him, fists clenched. Sitting up straight, Kaiba reached to touch his arm, only to have it smacked away with a growl. "Don't touch me," he snarled. "Don't you fucking touch me, Kaiba Seto. This is your fault!"

Kaiba scoffed. "Oh please, spare me the dramatics and sit down, Yami. I am not putting up with anymore fucking breakdowns. I'm being patient enough with you as it is."

Eyes narrowed. Yami waved his finger in his face, that self-righteous look Kaiba's pet hate. "Don't patronise me, Kaiba. Not exactly the best way to get into my trousers," he hissed, corner of his lip twitching. Kaiba surged to his feet, jabbing Yami in the chest.

"Why the hell would I want to get into your trousers you ungrateful little shit. You're hardly worth the trouble!"

"Then why do you keep following me around!?"

"Because someone has to keep an eye on you in case you do something stupid!"

Yami's cheeks reddened. Composing himself and straightening himself out, he said, "I am not going to do anything 'stupid'. What do you take me for?"

Kaiba huffed, throwing his arms in the air. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but gave up, arms falling. "Regardless of everything else that's happened up to this point, you came running to me, Yami and whatever the reason it must have been urgent because you came in a pair if plimsolls that I doubt are yours and your shirt is not only on backwards, but inside out. You were either in a rush or you got dressed in the dark."

Looking down at his shirt, Yami groaned. What a joke. "It's none of your damn business how I get dressed," he snapped, flopping into his seat again. "And I don't know why I came here when all you have done is hurl abuse at me! I don't understand what you want from me. You offer me a job, then you proposition me, then you follow me around then you kiss me! It's ridiculous! Kaiba Seto doesn't do these things and I could never believe otherwise!"

Kaiba swallowed, smoothing the tip of his finger over his bottom lip. "So what did you come here for?"

"I just wanted to be somewhere that wasn't home, wasn't freezing cold and wasn't so loud I couldn't hear myself think, alright? So just shut up."

It was perhaps one of the first occasions Kaiba had done just that. He pushed his tea towards him again. "I'll be upstairs when you decide to stop being such a jackass and talk."

He didn't catch Yami flipping him off. Two hours passed without a sound and Kaiba was starting to nod off at his desk. The mansion was silent, Mokuba long since fast asleep, the servants done for the day. Shutting down his laptop, he headed through the connecting door that lead to his bedroom. He couldn't have been more surprised to see Yami perched on the edge of his bed, hunched over tiredly. He rocked slowly like a buoy on water, seeming so small and fragile that Kaiba felt a surge of protectiveness not unlike the kind he often felt for his brother.

"Finally done thinking, are you?" he said, Yami blearily looking up. "You should have gone to bed instead of waiting up. Or you should have interrupted me."

"Wouldn't dare interrupt your work," Yami griped, leaning against one of the bed's posts. It was a bedroom perfect for a Kaiba, all solid lines and hard mahogany, sheets tepid blue gushing from beneath royal pillows. All handles and knobs were gold, everything emblazoned with the letters K and C. "What do you find to do all night on that machine? Are you in chat rooms?"

Kaiba's look was withering. He shooed Yami from his bed so he could turn it down, rearranging his pillows the way he liked them. "Overseeing stocks, checking finance, transferring money, the usual business duties," he said, Yami wandering around, picking up small ornaments, papers, a pristine black shirt. If he hadn't been so tired, Kaiba would have chastised him for touching someone else's property. "So, are you done thinking or not? I would like to go to bed sometimes tonight."

"Fuck me."

Kaiba breathed through a haggard cough. "W-what? What did you just say?"

Yami was stood by the window, clutching the curtain. "You heard me, Kaiba. You were keen enough the other day."

"I was drunk, Yami. And if I remember correctly, you quit your job because of it. You need to go back downstairs and carry on thinking for a while. I'll leave a key for one of the guest rooms."

"All I ever do is think. I want to do this instead for a change."

"You can find something else to occupy your time with."

Yami's shoulders started to shake. Concerned he was crying, Kaiba touched his shoulder, recoiling when Yami lashed out to clout him. He only just stepped back in time, snatching his arm the next time he tried it. "What the hell is wrong with you?! You're insane!" he yelled, squeezing his wrist. "You don't want this."

"What do you care what I want?! You've never cared before!" Yami snatched his arm back. With a growl he stretched up on his toes, dragging Kaiba down by the collar of his t-shirt to push their lips together. Kaiba fell into it without another protest, pushing his leg between firm, thin thighs that felt warm and tight around him. The moment Yami broke away for air he gasped, "I said 'fuck me', Kaiba. Now."

Kaiba wasted no time dragging Yami to bed with him.