You Can't Always Get What You Want

By. LittleMissReaper

Seto slouched at his desk, compulsively clicking his pen. Click in, click-chik out, click in, click-chik out, click in.

Enter Mokuba with a cheery greeting. Seto doesn't reply.

Dropping the sickeningly sweet demeanor, Mokuba arches an eyebrow in a manner than adds ten years to his age. "I bet Freud would have something to say about that."

"I'd think carefully about if it's Freud you want to talk about, seeing as you're my only living relative."

Mokuba blanched. "Well, you know a Freudian slip is when you say one thing-"

"But mean your mother." Seto finished. "I know."

"This about Joey then?"

Seto sighed and set the ill used pen down. "Yeah."

Mokuba gave the manic sounding giggle of someone very amused with their self. "You're so Jung Seto, you shouldn't be afreud of love." He broke down then gasping for breaths at his own puns.

Seto just rolled his eyes, as usual more amused by his brother's reaction than by the joke he told. Mokuba loved puns. Really, really bad puns. And it wasn't often that he could get through one without dissolving into a fit of giggles.

There was a comfortable pause when Mokuba stilled his laughter, that is until the unconscious pen clicking ensued. Click in, click-chik out, click in, click-chik out, click in.

Mokuba interrupted his brother mid "click-chik". "Do you know what entitlement is?"

Seto knew that whatever answer he was going to give, regardless of its accuracy when compared to the Oxford definition, was not the one Mokuba wanted and so he opted for silence.

"It means thinking that if you ask for something the right way, you deserve to get it. You feel it's your right, like acceptance is certain if you just use the right words or the right tone. What you don't get is that no one ever has to say yes to you. They can say no for any reason they want, they can say no on a whim. That is a right, Seto. Getting what you want is a privilege. And part of your problem is that even if you've tried every possible combination of words and tone, it will never work."

Seto sniffed, irritated. "And why, pray tell, is that?"

"It's because you're not asking the right question. You're not even speaking the right language. Joey is more than willing to give you what you want and then some, you just need to ask him the right question, and you need to understand that even with the right question, Joey has every right to tell you no. That's just how it works."

"And how do I figure out what the right question is?"

Mokuba looked thoughtful for a moment. "Pulling your head out of your ass might help."

Seto's established frown deepened as he ordered, "Out!"

Mokuba raised his chin defiantly and marched out of the room, but was sure that his little speech had made some impact, regardless of how small it might prove to be.

Thoughts swirled around his head for sometime after that but nothing new came to him and he finally threw down his pen and grabbed his briefcase, calling his driver on the way out the door.

::End chapter::

A/N: Short, I know, but I'm trying to get back into the swing of things and this is all I could manage for now.