FIC: Piano Strings
Title: Piano Strings
Author: drummerdancer
Characters/Pairings: Yami Yugi, Seto Kaiba, Mokuba Kaiba
Word Count: 600
Warnings: None
Summary: The piano serves better use as extended counter space than a musical instrument.
Yami follows Kaiba into the study room in the back corner of the mansion, removed from the hustle of housekeeping and security guards into a place more quiet and more settled into. It’s a routine duel Kaiba wants, nothing more, except tonight, he’s not feeling up for an audience, he says. His ramrod posture is slouched, head bent like it weighs that of a bowling ball. Shadows hang under his eyelids. Yami says nothing, sets his hands inside his pockets, and follows quietly.
“We’ll do a match, four thousand life points,” Kaiba says, knees hugging carpet as he leans over the coffee table, deck in hand. Behind him is a parlor piano serving as counter space for stacks of manilla folders and thick textbooks; Yami wonders how many Kaiba has read as he, too, kneels and takes out his deck. A thin line of dust coats the playing bench.
“I’ll go first. I play Pot of Greed and draw two cards. Then, I set two cards and summon Battle Ox. Turn end.”
Yami draws a card, his eyes drifting around the clumps of Kaiba’s hair. “I set one monster and two cards.”
The white dueling jacket Kaiba usually wears is absent, cloaking him in black up to his wrists. His fingers look near ghost-like as he draws. “I attack with Battle Ox.”
Yami flips over Mirror Force. Kaiba counters with Seven Tools of the Bandit. Yami flips his monster card face-up.
“Yomi Ship. When this monster is destroyed, the attacking monster is destroyed as well.”
They both remove their cards. Kaiba sets a monster and ends his turn.
Yami’s not sure what he feels for Kaiba, or if he feels anything at all. If Yugi were in the same weary state, Yami would bend over backwards to help him feel well once more. But Kaiba wouldn’t want the help, much less would Yami offer it; he didn’t fancy losing his hand to the jaws of a snarling panther.
Yami draws and there’s a cough behind him. Mokuba Kaiba is standing at the door, shyly trying to sneak a glance at the life points counter as Kaiba frowns at the interruption. “Did you need something, Mokuba?”
“Um…” Mokuba digs one socked toe into the carpet. “Nii-sama, the maids are cleaning the piano in the main room. Do you mind if I play in here?”
Yami blinks. Kaiba’s face remains cross. “We’re in the middle of a duel.”
Mokuba’s shoulders shrink back, the stance of somebody conditioned to harsh treatment. “Right. Sorry, I know that. I shouldn’t have-”
“I don’t mind if he plays in here, Seto,” Yami interrupts.
Kaiba looks surprised, either by the request or the fact Yami used his first name, Yami cannot tell. Mokuba goes slack-jawed, like Yami’s sucker punched him in the cheek, but his expression brightens nonetheless.
Kaiba is the first to recover; he straightens his back and neck, glares at Yami, then gives a passing glance to the piano. “Nothing too loud, then.”
Mokuba beams and walks over to the piano, pulling the bench out as dust swirls and strings creak, old age and ill-use the sounds filling the quiet study. Mokuba sits down, pulls the key cover up and away, and tests the piano with a chord. The noise is stinging and off-key, and Yami expects Kaiba to revoke his permission and usher Mokuba out of their room.
Instead, Kaiba’s shoulders remain pulled back, his head points north, and the shadows clinging to his face drain south to his cheeks, igniting his features.
“It’s your turn,” he says.
Double posted @ ygodrabble
Author: drummerdancer
Characters/Pairings: Yami Yugi, Seto Kaiba, Mokuba Kaiba
Word Count: 600
Warnings: None
Summary: The piano serves better use as extended counter space than a musical instrument.
Yami follows Kaiba into the study room in the back corner of the mansion, removed from the hustle of housekeeping and security guards into a place more quiet and more settled into. It’s a routine duel Kaiba wants, nothing more, except tonight, he’s not feeling up for an audience, he says. His ramrod posture is slouched, head bent like it weighs that of a bowling ball. Shadows hang under his eyelids. Yami says nothing, sets his hands inside his pockets, and follows quietly.
“We’ll do a match, four thousand life points,” Kaiba says, knees hugging carpet as he leans over the coffee table, deck in hand. Behind him is a parlor piano serving as counter space for stacks of manilla folders and thick textbooks; Yami wonders how many Kaiba has read as he, too, kneels and takes out his deck. A thin line of dust coats the playing bench.
“I’ll go first. I play Pot of Greed and draw two cards. Then, I set two cards and summon Battle Ox. Turn end.”
Yami draws a card, his eyes drifting around the clumps of Kaiba’s hair. “I set one monster and two cards.”
The white dueling jacket Kaiba usually wears is absent, cloaking him in black up to his wrists. His fingers look near ghost-like as he draws. “I attack with Battle Ox.”
Yami flips over Mirror Force. Kaiba counters with Seven Tools of the Bandit. Yami flips his monster card face-up.
“Yomi Ship. When this monster is destroyed, the attacking monster is destroyed as well.”
They both remove their cards. Kaiba sets a monster and ends his turn.
Yami’s not sure what he feels for Kaiba, or if he feels anything at all. If Yugi were in the same weary state, Yami would bend over backwards to help him feel well once more. But Kaiba wouldn’t want the help, much less would Yami offer it; he didn’t fancy losing his hand to the jaws of a snarling panther.
Yami draws and there’s a cough behind him. Mokuba Kaiba is standing at the door, shyly trying to sneak a glance at the life points counter as Kaiba frowns at the interruption. “Did you need something, Mokuba?”
“Um…” Mokuba digs one socked toe into the carpet. “Nii-sama, the maids are cleaning the piano in the main room. Do you mind if I play in here?”
Yami blinks. Kaiba’s face remains cross. “We’re in the middle of a duel.”
Mokuba’s shoulders shrink back, the stance of somebody conditioned to harsh treatment. “Right. Sorry, I know that. I shouldn’t have-”
“I don’t mind if he plays in here, Seto,” Yami interrupts.
Kaiba looks surprised, either by the request or the fact Yami used his first name, Yami cannot tell. Mokuba goes slack-jawed, like Yami’s sucker punched him in the cheek, but his expression brightens nonetheless.
Kaiba is the first to recover; he straightens his back and neck, glares at Yami, then gives a passing glance to the piano. “Nothing too loud, then.”
Mokuba beams and walks over to the piano, pulling the bench out as dust swirls and strings creak, old age and ill-use the sounds filling the quiet study. Mokuba sits down, pulls the key cover up and away, and tests the piano with a chord. The noise is stinging and off-key, and Yami expects Kaiba to revoke his permission and usher Mokuba out of their room.
Instead, Kaiba’s shoulders remain pulled back, his head points north, and the shadows clinging to his face drain south to his cheeks, igniting his features.
“It’s your turn,” he says.
Double posted @ ygodrabble