Prompt #9 - Massage
Mokuba seemed so tired when he came home from work. He dragged his limbs and didn't try to hide the frown on his features.
It was so obvious that Yami actually put down his book to pay attention. Mokuba didn't often talk about work, and on the few occasions when asked the response was something like, 'alright' or 'a little frustrating, but not bad'. To be perfectly honest, Yami didn't know what Mokuba actually did, working for Kaiba. When they were younger, Mokuba kept track of things, contributed ideas, and managed others in Seto's place so far as he knew, but that wasn't a job per se. He recalled Yuugi (who was always asking people questions) being told something about marketing, but that was a broad field and Yami didn't really know what it consisted of besides maybe advertising.
Maybe it shouldn't have been, but he found it hard to broach personal subjects when it came to Mokuba. There was something about the status quo of old, of not having to know those details to know who could be trusted, that stayed his tongue. On one level, Yami didn't particularly care - he would never end up working at KaibaCorp and that knowledge was superficial at best. The likelihood that he would need to know what Mokuba did for some important task seemed low. On several others he recognized the importance of caring about what other people did even if it wasn't significant, but that didn't make asking sudden questions any easier.
Yami was also guarded about his own personal information, so it seemed like an inconsiderate thing to do. The fact was that he didn't do much and there wasn't much to know about him, in terms of how he lived his life. Things were simple: he worked for Gramps and sometimes went out to have fun (though there had been less of that lately, thanks to Mokuba being an ample distraction). Most of his turmoil was internal, and he didn't feel comfortable sharing his weaknesses. It wasn't Mokuba's fault that all of the important things to know about him were emotional - but that didn't obligate him to suddenly gush about himself, either.
"Hey, Yami," was Mokuba's greeting. There was no time wasted, and as soon as he made it up the stairs to the flat proper, he removed his suit jacket and tossed it to the floor.
Yami nodded in response, watching as Mokuba settled into the largest (and therefore favorite) chair; the round, glass table that was normally in the center of the room was called into service as a foot stool. He wasn't quite sure how to ask about Mokuba's day without sounding like a worried housewife, so for the moment Yami said nothing.
"Everything at the shop okay today?" Mokuba asked. A sigh escaped him afterward as he slouched further into the chair cushions.
"Yeah," Yami replied. "Every day brings a storm of kids now that school's out. Yuugi needed study time, so I've been on my feet all day." Of course, the shop closed around the same time that Mokuba usually left work. "He's closing up. I've only been here a few minutes." Since he had the opportunity to do it so nonchalantly, he added, "You?"
"I was offered a promotion," Mokuba said, his voice almost hoarse, "and I took it." Pale hands ran themselves over his face and into dark hair. "You are now looking at the new head of Public Relations for KaibaCorp, effective next week."
Yami wasn't sure how to respond. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? But rather than comment on that, he asked simply, "Why?"
Mokuba hated working for KaibaCorp as far as he knew, or at least with his brother. Perhaps he was trying to work things out with Seto. Yami couldn't presume to know the responsibilities of being the heir to a company, so it was also possible that it was something obligatory. On the other hand, Mokuba hadn't started off complaining about his brother or anything like that - he'd said instead, 'offered'. This was the sort of man who picked words carefully, so Yami could be sure that phrasing had been used for a reason. But he found himself unable to put those thoughts into direct questions. He was just not good at prying, really.
If Mokuba didn't want to divulge why the position had been accepted, he had a right to that. He had already made it clear that he wanted to improve things with Seto. It could really be that simple. Yami was likely overthinking things. It was just difficult dealing with Mokuba when he was mopey, and the image seemed at odds with the news being delivered.
"The money, really," was the answer, apparently. He was leaning back into his chair, limbs spread lazily across the armrests. "I want to get a slightly bigger place," he added.
Yami blinked. "Not big enough for you already?" That reasoning made very little sense, either way; he was fairly sure that if Mokuba wanted to live somewhere else it wouldn't take much besides deciding where.
"It is," Mokuba answered, but he paused before continuing, "But I have a lot of stuff from my childhood at the old house, though. I want to make space. My old gaming systems and bookshelves and things; stuff I was planning take when I settled back in Domino but I never got around to. Not with things between me and Seto the way that they are. This living room is enough for people to chill in, but I like having a guestroom for friends. I'd rather not turn it into a storage room."
Yami had no idea how much Mokuba actually made, and even less of an idea of what Mokuba wanted, so he kept his mouth shut about that. "I bet Seto's happy." That, at least, had to be true.
The room felt tense, the air thick and it was fairly obvious that Mokuba didn't really want the promotion at all, in spite of what he'd said. Mokuba wasn't going very far to hide his lack of enthusiasm.
"Of course he is. He's got plans for me, I'm sure." The sarcasm seeping from those words, so far, was the only thing Yami felt could trust.
"Then why don't you tell him to fuck off?" There, an intrusive question and better, one that made sense.
"He's my brother," Mokuba said quickly. "He's gotten over some of the differences we had when I first came back, and I want things to work out. And since I'm getting something out of it I see no reason to complain."
Yami decided to change the subject, because everything that Mokuba had just told him was bullshit and they both knew it. "Congrats on your promotion, then. You look like you were just hit by a bus."
A wry chuckle loosened itself from Mokuba's throat. "I deeply appreciate your honesty."
He stood and made sure that his book was set down neatly behind him. Mokuba really did look like shit today, and he felt like something needed to be done about it or he'd end up with an irritable Kaiba for the evening. For once, Yami felt he knew what to do.
There was no doubt that he wasn't good at asking the right questions in the right way. It had been even longer since he'd had been able to say something poignant or helpful at the right time. Fate and imminent world destruction, Yami could do; he was a ruler, after all, born and bred and tried. But when it became as specific as a single person in a unique situation that wouldn't affect many others, he found himself lacking.
Slowly, he made his way over to Mokuba's chair.
Perhaps that was why Yami's life had become a jumble; his "talents", now that his role had been fulfilled, were not nearly as encompassing as he had thought. It was something that he had been coping with for a long time, and it was irritating whenever a situation like this one reminded him of what he couldn't do, rather than what he could.
Mokuba's voice cut through his thoughts. "If you don't mind, Yami, I'm going to just head to bed early. I'm exhausted. Need a ride back to the shop?"
"No. I have the truck. I just wanted to hang around here for a while." Meaning, of course, that he didn't want to be at home. By the time Yami finished speaking, he was directly behind the large chair.
Dark, brown eyes looked upward at him. Mokuba smiled just a little before sighing again.
"So you'll be busy in the upcoming days?" It was more of an assumption, really, but part of Yami remained optimistic. The more and more Mokuba wanted to remain unassociated with the corporate world, the harder it was working to pull him in.
He watched a head full of dark hair learn forward just slightly, as though to rise, before falling back again. Mokuba looked up again and closed his eyes, sighing. "Yeah. The head PR's position is full-time with overtime attached. It's disgusting, Yami. I get flexible hours, but only under the pretense of being available at every waking moment."
Brows knitted in concern. Why would anyone take a job they didn't want, especially if they didn't have to? The money didn't seem worth it in this case.
Yami reached out to grasp Mokuba's shoulders but didn't say a word. Instead he tightened his grip and very slowly kneaded the muscles underneath. He had very little skill at doing things like this, so he tried to keep himself alert; channeling the feel that he was aspiring to, wanting to be able to tell if this was uncomfortable for Mokuba in any way. Was his grip firm enough? Was it too firm? He didn't know what it felt like to feel a tensed muscle under his palm, what a person physically felt like when a person was stressed - he wondered, briefly, if it was the same as the coiling of a muscle for jumping, punching or kicking. Mokuba's shoulders felt like ...shoulders. How was he supposed to be able to tell?
He was thinking too much and too hard. Just keep doing it, he told himself. No complaints yet. But he didn't want to just let silence slip between them; he already felt awkward.
"So he can call you at any time?" Yami asked. It was something else to focus on, at least. His fingers moved inward, closer to Mokuba's neck, and he rolled the skin under his fingertips.
Mokuba's body sunk into the chair a little as he relaxed, and Yami had to go around to the side of the chair so that he could reach. Mokuba was silent while they shifted, but that was a good thing; it meant that he wasn't telling Yami to stop.
"Anytime he wants," was the answer. "I put in three hours of time every day at the actual headquarters, looking for media sources that can make KaibaCorp better known, basically. A publicist. I get the rest of the day to myself, but I have to keep my company pager and my cellphone on my person at all times. And, of course, for bigger events or coverage I'll be up and about all day. Whoo hoo."
Yami debated with himself before voicing his opinion. He didn't want to ruin the moment. And despite knowing about Mokuba's relationship with Kaiba, he really didn't know any specific details. "Sounds like you're being used, to me." When Mokuba leaned forward again, nearly hunching over to expose his back, Yami froze - he certainly didn't know how to massage an entire back.
"That feels good." The purr in Mokuba's voice was obvious and Yami felt compelled to continue, especially when it wasn't followed with a quip or a joke.
Fingers pressed against Mokuba's back, sliding down until he could grip Mokuba's sides. Adding bit more pressure with his thumbs, he began to move them around in a circular pattern. He didn't exactly know where Mokuba was feeling stiff, but Yami thought it logical to start in the middle and move up.
Mokuba sighed happily. "You can press harder."
It was hard not to smile in response. Was he scoring points or what? Those shits better be redeemable for something.
"...and a little lower, please," Mokuba asked gently. It was nearly a whimper, and between that and a second sigh just a few moments later, it was obvious to Yami when he found the right spot.
He wasn't going to say anything, but it seemed obvious that Mokuba was more upset about having to take the promotion than he was letting on. They probably weren't going to discuss it further, though, so Yami kept that observation to himself. Yami had no clue as to why Mokuba had taken the promotion in the first place, but he didn't really believe the explanation involving money. How exactly was this making things easier for his relationship with Seto? Whatever the answer was, he did hope that Mokuba would be happy with the outcome. Though Mokuba could be an asshole, he was also very...sweet, especially whenever Seto was involved. There was always initial anger but it quickly burned away to reveal something softer underneath. Very much like Yuugi, honestly, but Yami kept that thought to himself, too. This wasn't the time.
"I didn't know you were good at massages," Mokuba continued to purr. "I feel like I could fall asleep right here."
Cute, he acknowledged, and absentmindedly tousled Mokuba's hair. Yami would chastise himself about it later.
"I'm not, really." Yami said. "You just... looked like you needed one."
"You know what, Yami? Every day you surprise me more and more."
It was so obvious that Yami actually put down his book to pay attention. Mokuba didn't often talk about work, and on the few occasions when asked the response was something like, 'alright' or 'a little frustrating, but not bad'. To be perfectly honest, Yami didn't know what Mokuba actually did, working for Kaiba. When they were younger, Mokuba kept track of things, contributed ideas, and managed others in Seto's place so far as he knew, but that wasn't a job per se. He recalled Yuugi (who was always asking people questions) being told something about marketing, but that was a broad field and Yami didn't really know what it consisted of besides maybe advertising.
Maybe it shouldn't have been, but he found it hard to broach personal subjects when it came to Mokuba. There was something about the status quo of old, of not having to know those details to know who could be trusted, that stayed his tongue. On one level, Yami didn't particularly care - he would never end up working at KaibaCorp and that knowledge was superficial at best. The likelihood that he would need to know what Mokuba did for some important task seemed low. On several others he recognized the importance of caring about what other people did even if it wasn't significant, but that didn't make asking sudden questions any easier.
Yami was also guarded about his own personal information, so it seemed like an inconsiderate thing to do. The fact was that he didn't do much and there wasn't much to know about him, in terms of how he lived his life. Things were simple: he worked for Gramps and sometimes went out to have fun (though there had been less of that lately, thanks to Mokuba being an ample distraction). Most of his turmoil was internal, and he didn't feel comfortable sharing his weaknesses. It wasn't Mokuba's fault that all of the important things to know about him were emotional - but that didn't obligate him to suddenly gush about himself, either.
"Hey, Yami," was Mokuba's greeting. There was no time wasted, and as soon as he made it up the stairs to the flat proper, he removed his suit jacket and tossed it to the floor.
Yami nodded in response, watching as Mokuba settled into the largest (and therefore favorite) chair; the round, glass table that was normally in the center of the room was called into service as a foot stool. He wasn't quite sure how to ask about Mokuba's day without sounding like a worried housewife, so for the moment Yami said nothing.
"Everything at the shop okay today?" Mokuba asked. A sigh escaped him afterward as he slouched further into the chair cushions.
"Yeah," Yami replied. "Every day brings a storm of kids now that school's out. Yuugi needed study time, so I've been on my feet all day." Of course, the shop closed around the same time that Mokuba usually left work. "He's closing up. I've only been here a few minutes." Since he had the opportunity to do it so nonchalantly, he added, "You?"
"I was offered a promotion," Mokuba said, his voice almost hoarse, "and I took it." Pale hands ran themselves over his face and into dark hair. "You are now looking at the new head of Public Relations for KaibaCorp, effective next week."
Yami wasn't sure how to respond. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? But rather than comment on that, he asked simply, "Why?"
Mokuba hated working for KaibaCorp as far as he knew, or at least with his brother. Perhaps he was trying to work things out with Seto. Yami couldn't presume to know the responsibilities of being the heir to a company, so it was also possible that it was something obligatory. On the other hand, Mokuba hadn't started off complaining about his brother or anything like that - he'd said instead, 'offered'. This was the sort of man who picked words carefully, so Yami could be sure that phrasing had been used for a reason. But he found himself unable to put those thoughts into direct questions. He was just not good at prying, really.
If Mokuba didn't want to divulge why the position had been accepted, he had a right to that. He had already made it clear that he wanted to improve things with Seto. It could really be that simple. Yami was likely overthinking things. It was just difficult dealing with Mokuba when he was mopey, and the image seemed at odds with the news being delivered.
"The money, really," was the answer, apparently. He was leaning back into his chair, limbs spread lazily across the armrests. "I want to get a slightly bigger place," he added.
Yami blinked. "Not big enough for you already?" That reasoning made very little sense, either way; he was fairly sure that if Mokuba wanted to live somewhere else it wouldn't take much besides deciding where.
"It is," Mokuba answered, but he paused before continuing, "But I have a lot of stuff from my childhood at the old house, though. I want to make space. My old gaming systems and bookshelves and things; stuff I was planning take when I settled back in Domino but I never got around to. Not with things between me and Seto the way that they are. This living room is enough for people to chill in, but I like having a guestroom for friends. I'd rather not turn it into a storage room."
Yami had no idea how much Mokuba actually made, and even less of an idea of what Mokuba wanted, so he kept his mouth shut about that. "I bet Seto's happy." That, at least, had to be true.
The room felt tense, the air thick and it was fairly obvious that Mokuba didn't really want the promotion at all, in spite of what he'd said. Mokuba wasn't going very far to hide his lack of enthusiasm.
"Of course he is. He's got plans for me, I'm sure." The sarcasm seeping from those words, so far, was the only thing Yami felt could trust.
"Then why don't you tell him to fuck off?" There, an intrusive question and better, one that made sense.
"He's my brother," Mokuba said quickly. "He's gotten over some of the differences we had when I first came back, and I want things to work out. And since I'm getting something out of it I see no reason to complain."
Yami decided to change the subject, because everything that Mokuba had just told him was bullshit and they both knew it. "Congrats on your promotion, then. You look like you were just hit by a bus."
A wry chuckle loosened itself from Mokuba's throat. "I deeply appreciate your honesty."
He stood and made sure that his book was set down neatly behind him. Mokuba really did look like shit today, and he felt like something needed to be done about it or he'd end up with an irritable Kaiba for the evening. For once, Yami felt he knew what to do.
There was no doubt that he wasn't good at asking the right questions in the right way. It had been even longer since he'd had been able to say something poignant or helpful at the right time. Fate and imminent world destruction, Yami could do; he was a ruler, after all, born and bred and tried. But when it became as specific as a single person in a unique situation that wouldn't affect many others, he found himself lacking.
Slowly, he made his way over to Mokuba's chair.
Perhaps that was why Yami's life had become a jumble; his "talents", now that his role had been fulfilled, were not nearly as encompassing as he had thought. It was something that he had been coping with for a long time, and it was irritating whenever a situation like this one reminded him of what he couldn't do, rather than what he could.
Mokuba's voice cut through his thoughts. "If you don't mind, Yami, I'm going to just head to bed early. I'm exhausted. Need a ride back to the shop?"
"No. I have the truck. I just wanted to hang around here for a while." Meaning, of course, that he didn't want to be at home. By the time Yami finished speaking, he was directly behind the large chair.
Dark, brown eyes looked upward at him. Mokuba smiled just a little before sighing again.
"So you'll be busy in the upcoming days?" It was more of an assumption, really, but part of Yami remained optimistic. The more and more Mokuba wanted to remain unassociated with the corporate world, the harder it was working to pull him in.
He watched a head full of dark hair learn forward just slightly, as though to rise, before falling back again. Mokuba looked up again and closed his eyes, sighing. "Yeah. The head PR's position is full-time with overtime attached. It's disgusting, Yami. I get flexible hours, but only under the pretense of being available at every waking moment."
Brows knitted in concern. Why would anyone take a job they didn't want, especially if they didn't have to? The money didn't seem worth it in this case.
Yami reached out to grasp Mokuba's shoulders but didn't say a word. Instead he tightened his grip and very slowly kneaded the muscles underneath. He had very little skill at doing things like this, so he tried to keep himself alert; channeling the feel that he was aspiring to, wanting to be able to tell if this was uncomfortable for Mokuba in any way. Was his grip firm enough? Was it too firm? He didn't know what it felt like to feel a tensed muscle under his palm, what a person physically felt like when a person was stressed - he wondered, briefly, if it was the same as the coiling of a muscle for jumping, punching or kicking. Mokuba's shoulders felt like ...shoulders. How was he supposed to be able to tell?
He was thinking too much and too hard. Just keep doing it, he told himself. No complaints yet. But he didn't want to just let silence slip between them; he already felt awkward.
"So he can call you at any time?" Yami asked. It was something else to focus on, at least. His fingers moved inward, closer to Mokuba's neck, and he rolled the skin under his fingertips.
Mokuba's body sunk into the chair a little as he relaxed, and Yami had to go around to the side of the chair so that he could reach. Mokuba was silent while they shifted, but that was a good thing; it meant that he wasn't telling Yami to stop.
"Anytime he wants," was the answer. "I put in three hours of time every day at the actual headquarters, looking for media sources that can make KaibaCorp better known, basically. A publicist. I get the rest of the day to myself, but I have to keep my company pager and my cellphone on my person at all times. And, of course, for bigger events or coverage I'll be up and about all day. Whoo hoo."
Yami debated with himself before voicing his opinion. He didn't want to ruin the moment. And despite knowing about Mokuba's relationship with Kaiba, he really didn't know any specific details. "Sounds like you're being used, to me." When Mokuba leaned forward again, nearly hunching over to expose his back, Yami froze - he certainly didn't know how to massage an entire back.
"That feels good." The purr in Mokuba's voice was obvious and Yami felt compelled to continue, especially when it wasn't followed with a quip or a joke.
Fingers pressed against Mokuba's back, sliding down until he could grip Mokuba's sides. Adding bit more pressure with his thumbs, he began to move them around in a circular pattern. He didn't exactly know where Mokuba was feeling stiff, but Yami thought it logical to start in the middle and move up.
Mokuba sighed happily. "You can press harder."
It was hard not to smile in response. Was he scoring points or what? Those shits better be redeemable for something.
"...and a little lower, please," Mokuba asked gently. It was nearly a whimper, and between that and a second sigh just a few moments later, it was obvious to Yami when he found the right spot.
He wasn't going to say anything, but it seemed obvious that Mokuba was more upset about having to take the promotion than he was letting on. They probably weren't going to discuss it further, though, so Yami kept that observation to himself. Yami had no clue as to why Mokuba had taken the promotion in the first place, but he didn't really believe the explanation involving money. How exactly was this making things easier for his relationship with Seto? Whatever the answer was, he did hope that Mokuba would be happy with the outcome. Though Mokuba could be an asshole, he was also very...sweet, especially whenever Seto was involved. There was always initial anger but it quickly burned away to reveal something softer underneath. Very much like Yuugi, honestly, but Yami kept that thought to himself, too. This wasn't the time.
"I didn't know you were good at massages," Mokuba continued to purr. "I feel like I could fall asleep right here."
Cute, he acknowledged, and absentmindedly tousled Mokuba's hair. Yami would chastise himself about it later.
"I'm not, really." Yami said. "You just... looked like you needed one."
"You know what, Yami? Every day you surprise me more and more."