BONUS - Writer's Choice: Ribbon
Here's the table again for good measure <3
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Summary: "Yami--I promise I would rather talk about being drunk."
This was twice now that Yami was found waiting on his doorstep. Mokuba wasn't sure what to make of it this time. At least there aren't a handful of cigarette butts on the ground. There was in fact, only one, which Yami put out when Mokuba approached.
“Hey.” He wasn't sure what about Yami put him on edge; maybe it was just nerves. It'd been a little while since they talked, and the last time wasn't exactly willing. “You're going to scare my neighbors. You can't keep hanging around like that.”
But Yami got straight to the point. “I can't repay you,” he said.
“I didn't want you to.” And as rude as it sounded, people rarely could. “I didn't do it to be repaid.” Getting those documents was just the right thing to do. And he didn't care what anyone said--he would take that sentiment to his grave.
When he entered his flat, Yami followed him inside.
“How did you get all of that?”
That question forced him to stop on the stairs. “I'm a Kaiba. We have our ways.”
“What did you have to do to get it?” Yami frowned. “Favors like that don't just appear. Everything costs.”
Yami's crimson's eyes stared intently, trying to read him. But there was nothing to see behind his words; Mokuba couldn't answer that question if he wanted to, and Seto told him not to ask. Unlike most people, he could follow directions.
The price was being paid, and that's all that mattered. If anything else came up, it wouldn't be Yami's problem anyway. They climbed the rest of the stairs and he paused at the top.
“You said you couldn't repay it, right? So it doesn't matter. Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. I'm not going to sit here and let you make me the focal point of guilt. And I'm not going to give you anything to feel bad about.” Mokuba flashed a smile. “I'd rather be happy that my boyfriend came to visit.”
It was slow, delayed by a few seconds, but an upward quirk caught the edge of Yami's lips.
“I've been on vacation all week. Wanna pay me back? Come out with me before I go back to work tomorrow.”
He knew that Yami needed his space, and really, Mokuba was glad to give it. But that didn't change the week going to waste: depressing sex, stress, an almost-breakup; none of those things were fun.
“Ahh--” Yami stuttered awkwardly, shuffling his feet. “That sounds--fine. Where?”
Mokuba shrugged. “I actually don't care. You know the city better than I do. Pick a place.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
A smile still tugged at the edges of Yami's lips, but it seemed like he was fighting it.
Mokuba decided to do something about it. This weird awkwardness--he wasn't feeling it. “You don't seem very excited.”
Yami hesitated. That was never good, in his experience. Then, “Things between you and Seto...?”
He really was digging, wasn't he? “Strained as always. He still doesn't like you, you know.”
The rolled eyes in response made it clear the sentiment was still mutual. “I literally could not give two fucks about what he thinks.”
“Cool. So pick a place already.” Mokuba hoped the extra pressure would push him to think about something else. If Yami pushed too hard, Mokuba would have to send him home. This topic wasn't up for discussion, and he was willing to stand by that.
In the meantime, Mokuba stopped in his room for a breather. And a scrunchy for his hair. It was fairly hot outside, and to be honest, he hadn't really planned on staying out very long. This was a small wrench on in his plans to relax before work, but a worthwhile one--or at least, he wanted it to be.
The door closed behind him with a small click. “We could just stay here.” Yami's voice was quiet, now.
Mokuba chuckled. He didn't even bother rummaging on the dresser, simply spun to sit on his bed. “How did I know? You have zero creativity, Yami.”
“Is that a no?” It didn't matter. Yami didn't bother waiting to start stripping. He shrugged off his jacket and it fell to the floor.
“It's a… ‘wait’.”
Yami paused, shirt halfway over his head. “What for?” But it was only for a second, and a moment later the article of clothing was on the floor.
Some small bit of doubt gnawed at him. “I don't want you to do this because of everything else.” It was weakness, lack of confidence, and no sooner did he point it out did he try to push it away.
“Get over yourself. I haven't seen you in almost a week.” Yami all but crawled into his lap, tugging at Mokuba's clothes. “We can have dinner or a date after or whatever you want.” Kisses made the offer more sweet.
“Dinner?”
Mokuba found himself pushed back against soft covers. Yami bared down on him, fingers plucking at his buttons. “Whatever.” The kiss darted on the corner of his lip was soft, and it smelled of smoke so strongly he tasted it.
“Yami?”
The man worked quickly; Mokuba’s chest was already exposed to open air. “Yes...?” It was teasing sort of note that dragged on.
“I hope you’re not actually worried about anything.” If he’d learned nothing else, it was that Yami had difficulty sharing his personal thoughts. “Because I don’t want to repeat any mistakes.”
He was out of his depth, here, a gap between them that couldn’t be denied. Mokuba had never experienced that sort of trouble with--”living”, as Yami had put it. But he’d never been a Pharaoh, either; had never been trapped inside a piece of magical jewelry, never had to duel for the fate of the world as the price of freedom. Just considering that sequence of events brought out the skeptic in him. However Yami was here, against his will and all odds, trying to make everything work. That alone seemed more implausible than the rest somehow.
So it’d be sillier not to support someone pushing back against all that, wouldn’t it?
“I...” Brows furrowed in thought and Yami hesitated, hands frozen in place while he looked down from above.
“Do you need to tell me something else?” He’d rather hear it now before he got too invested in the moment.
“I have a question.”
“...yeah?”
Yami stiffened, straightening up, shifted to make it easier to move. A sigh barreled out of him, and it put Mokuba on edge. “My name. You know what it was.”
That was not a question. “Yeah--you told me.” And it was not a pleasant memory. He would rather not dwell on it.
Mokuba regretted asking.
“Everything you gave me says ‘Yami’.”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I thought about it. But there’s Kanji for it, which is less suspicious. It matches Yuugi’s name better, too. And it’s what you go by. I don’t think I’ve ever called you anything else, besides ‘the other Yuugi’--but that’s an obvious no.” Maybe it was selfish, but, “it just seemed right.”
“I’ve lived too long, and there is nothing left in living for me.”
Whoever he had been, it didn’t seem Yami was that person anymore.
Mokuba couldn’t help the frown that pulled at his lips. “I hope you don’t hate it. We can’t change it now.”
“No.” Yami’s voice was a quiet rumble in his throat, barely audible. “I just ...wanted to know. Thank you.” His hands resumed their work, loosening Mokuba’s shirt, but they were more purposeful, less hurried.
Silence echoed between them while they undressed, broken only by sheets and clothes being tossed and dropped and kicked aside. Mokuba watched Yami’s face intently, but the man only seemed more determined than before.
“I want new marks,” Yami said suddenly. He pinched at skin on his own hips, his chest, “the old ones are mostly gone.”
Mokuba’s fingers itched. Doing it was habit now, but after last week he wasn’t so sure. There was no way to tell if it made things better or worse. “Really? You sure?”
The sound Yami made almost sounded like a purr. “Mhm. Yes.” Yami plucked his hands from his sides and placed them on his chest. “Just fuck me up.”
A giggle bubbled from his lips. “You’re so weird.” It didn’t take much to have Yami seizing in his grasp, reflexes running from his fingers. Mokuba missed it, too. There were frustrations of his own that he missed venting across skin.
They wrapped themselves in one another. Yami couldn’t keep quiet for long, liked being touched, teased and dared and challenged: he wanted more, more, harder, again, faster; pauses only long enough to be torture. He loved it too much for Mokuba to think twice again until it was over, and pale flesh was streaked in pink and red.
Yami wouldn’t let them linger, pushed off touches that would have them entwined again in favor of a shower. Then he was silent again, pulling on clothes, eyes trailing after Mokuba as they moved around.
“You said you wanted dinner?”
“Or whatever. Know any good spots?” Really, Mokuba just wanted some normalcy. He wanted to go out and have fun and not have to worry about the world falling apart around them.
He didn’t want to have to worry about Yami falling apart.
“I can always find a good party.”
It was true. A night out together was never boring. Yami knew all the good places. He always talked a little more when he drank, too.
“Let’s do that, then. Maybe a snack first so I don’t end up falling all over you this time.”
Yami laughed. He scooped his jacket from the floor and led the way out. “Good call, though I wouldn’t mind another lap dance.”
That was such an embarrassing memory. They’d both had a lot to drink. Mokuba had been self-conscious since. He had absolutely no plans to get that sloppy any time soon, especially not without calling someone to get a ride home. There wasn’t really any way to defend himself so, he kept quiet, chuckling nervously.
“Hey.” Yami stopped at the top of the stairs, spinning on his heels. Mokuba almost ran into him. “...I just wanted to say--without being forced by Yuugi or anything--Thank you.”
Somehow, that was even more embarrassing. It was just such a strange thing to talk about. Mokuba didn’t want anything like that hanging over them; he didn’t want to think about it. “Yami--I promise I would rather talk about being drunk.” Living like a normal person wasn’t a thing someone should be grateful for.
“So you’ll let me buy you drinks?” Yami’s smirk was subtle, but it was there.
He didn’t like the idea and had never, really. To Mokuba it didn’t make much sense for anyone to try to buy him anything. But the sooner they could forget about all this, the better. “Yeah, you can get me fucked up. I miss Anzu’s party anyway.”
“I’m going to hold you to that. I’ll drive. And I want a dance.”