Chapter Text
If you light a match and toss it into a pile of oil, you expect it to burn. If there is no catalyst to ignite the flame, you cannot expect the spark of life to rise and lay waste to your chosen target.
That's what fighting with Atem was like. Waiting for the right moment, his brain coming up with just the right amount of vicious intent and letting it loose before the cage of his teeth could slam shut.
As soon as the words left his mouth, splashing poison against the pristine walls of their bedroom, all Seto can think about nearly a week later was the look on his face immediately after.
The suns in his eyes darkening, going wide with disbelief. Furrowed brows smoothed over as the wave of shock took its sweet, slow time. Dark complexion rapidly drained of warmth and love and all those things Seto associates with the divine.
Yugi's reaction was no better. Tiny hands clenching the fabric of his loose-fitting sweatpants, the question dying on his tongue to be replaced with shards of rusted glass; chewing on his reply, eyelashes damp with unshed tears.
They had arguments before, but nothing like this had ever been uttered in this house; they painted the walls with love in nearly every language he could think of. The music of their laughter echoing in the halls at night long after they'd fallen asleep.
None of that joy now remained.
He wanted to be the one to leave, to end it. It had all become too much, the feeling of utter contentment sliding home to settle with fresh, breezy fingers in his soul. Standing there, watching the tears fall thick and tortuously slow down Yugi's pink-splotched cheeks, so quickly turning into a gale of single-minded fury was nearly more than Seto could bear.
He endured the storm, the quiet rage that flitted behind Atem's eyes as the words - battered by constant insecurity and unable to weather the rising tide of anxiety - flew back and forth, the mounting tension reaching never before seen heights outside of a dueling arena.
It was one thing to hurt the ones you love and expect them to leave; it was another thing altogether to watch it happen right before his eyes.
In the end, Atem is the one to break the standoff. He rushes from their shared bedroom, lips parted in a silent snarl, teeth clenched tightly to hold back the blaze of fury, something that Seto himself wanted so badly to master. The door slams, a testament to the frustration and heartache he leaves behind. The sound reverberates in his core until all he feels is a sense of heavy loss pounding behind his eyes, leaving Seto wanting in a way he's never experienced.
Now, as Seto trudges into the bathroom, the lights overhead blooming of their own accord as he splashes water to rid the sleep from his eyes, he still remembers the exact words Yugi left behind. Eyelashes fanning across his cheeks in rapid motions, the fluttering of a hummingbird's wings as he tries in vain to stop the flow of tears. They come regardless, staining his cheeks in uneven, mercurial streaks - the comet tails of sorrow disappear into his shirt collar, darkening the fabric with intense emotion.
"Why? Why would you ever think that? What have we ever done to make you doubt our love for you?"
Seto shakes his head, patting his face dry with a neatly folded towel. Maybe if he had answered the question instead of facing it with stony silence, jaw clenched so tight he could feel the tendons in his neck - taught with stress and bulging with residual anger - they could be sprawled on the game room couch, watching Mokuba work his way through Cuphead and cursing far beyond his years with each death.
It's a fantasy that slides into his waking hours, and with each minute into his morning routine that passes by without a light-hearted quip or a brush of fingers against cool flesh - straightening his tie, or handing off his briefcase - the more the cold reality sinks in that he just might be spending his days in miserable solitude.
Ridiculous. Love is just chemicals in the brain, sparking off endorphins in an endless race to happiness. Logically, he doesn't need another person in his life to validate whatever chemicals his body happens to produce. Seto knows this, but the bitterness coating his tongue is not just from his cup of coffee - half full and laying abandoned on the island counter - but the ever present chill that worked its way into his system mere minutes after Yugi had left the room, tears coating his lashes in glossy sadness.
He'd let them walk away, and no matter how often he told himself he was better off (a lie), or that he could do better (there was no one better), the house was still just as empty as it had been before Yugi and Atem had set foot inside, spreading their wings and lighting up whatever room suited their whims.
This Kaiba Seto had finally found something akin to love and wrapped himself up so tightly within its tender folds, that to lose its soothing presence was like losing an arm, or something else just as inherently valuable to his general well-being.
For the first few days, he buries any conflicting emotions he has about the incident as deeply as his conscious mind allows. He can't afford to think about any of it while attending to mundane company affairs; throwing himself into meeting after meeting with awkward abandon just to find a sense of normalcy becomes a chore rather than second nature.
Mokuba knows something is wrong, but every time he tries to approach the subject, he is firmly (but gently) rebuffed. After three days straight of practically barricading himself in his office, Yugi finally gathers the courage to try to settle things. Seto cannot bear to even look him in the eye, and is quick to deny him access. His little brother was less than thrilled, and made quite sure Seto knew just how displeased he was.
He grew tired of coffee, the rich and bitter taste no longer doing much for him other than keeping his heart beating and his eyes open, so he turned to the only other immediate vice within easy reach. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the liquor cabinet by the kitchen, he trudges upstairs, a decorative glass tumbler clutched tightly in his free hand.
It's now day six, and it should have been painfully clear to him that Atem would not have let that sort of behavior stand, at least not for long. Dealing with other people's failures was far easier than addressing his own, it seems. Seto does nothing but fix everyone's mistakes, so when he finds himself on the other side of the mirror, all he can do is curl into himself and hope the problem goes away on its own.
He does not immediately register Atem entering the room; he figures it has to be Mokuba, worried about the path he'd chosen to take, so far flung from the original plan that it would take infinite amounts of patience to find his way home again. A velvet-light touch to his hands causes his head to snap up, finally blinking the haze from his eyes. The bottle is half empty, which does not escape the King's keen sight. He eyes it with mild disdain, but his attention is quickly diverted in favor of more important things. Atem gently extracts the bottle from tightly clenched fingers to place it on the side table, well away from Seto's shaking hands.
"Drink this," he murmurs, voice cotton-soft and meant for a better man's ears, but Seto is in no mood to argue again.
He tips the glass to his lips, knocking back its contents in long, slow gulps. He isn't quite drunk, but an incessant buzz fills his veins, like an adrenaline high he can't come down from. His stomach tied itself in knots days ago, and what little food he managed to eat never seems to be enough. Atem seems satisfied with the minute ground he gained by the gesture, and takes the glass from trembling hands, setting it on the table.
Seto opens his mouth, struggling to string together the apology hidden behind clouded thoughts. When it is not immediately forthcoming, he cards a nervous hand through tousled dark strands, trying for some semblance of order. He looks anywhere but at the man in front of him, and not for the first time that week, he wishes he had just kept his silence.
Atem sighs, a sliver of breath on the still air. A step forward carries him within easy reach, laying reverent hands to the inside curve of his knees. Parting the long legs - so used to crushing his opponents underfoot without a second thought - he calmly slips between them, dragging the pads of his fingers against the closest bits of skin he can reach. His hands, the long slope of his neck, his cheeks - they all succumb to the warm touch of selfless, altruistic love. There is no mistaking the kindness lining every gentle dip and curve, a benevolent god in the house of man. Seto closes his eyes against the crimson tide, clamping rigid teeth down before the sob building in his throat leaks through the cracked facade.
"I'm.. I fucked up."
The statement hangs in the air between them, heavy with the weight of his sin, as close to an apology as he'll ever get. Seto can't decide what to do with his hands, whether they even deserve the right to hold the magnificent and loving creature between his knees, so he consigns himself to worrying at the light cotton sheets beneath his fingers instead.
"We all make mistakes, Seto." Two fingers find a home beneath the sharp jut of his chin, tipping his face up to stare into half-lidded, sunset shrouded eyes. "None of us is infallible, and we are all at fault here." Atem's thumb tenderly wipes away the moisture pooling at the corners of his eyes. He hadn't even realized the tears were there, assuming it to be a side effect of the alcohol.
"You're not the one who..," he pauses, working around the rough, scratchy thing that is his voice. "He was crying."
The fingers fall from his chin, but they do not stay idle. He feels the hand slide around the back of his neck, catching on the fine hairs at its base and squeezing gently. His head falls back to stare at the man he would have risked death to bring back - still would, if given the opportunity. It is unlikely Atem realizes the impact he leaves on everyone that crosses his path. For Seto Kaiba, his life's goal revolved around beating the man at his own game. In a way, he will always be chasing after the pharaoh, who carved a path lined with courage, determination, and a fierce will in the hearts of friend and foe alike.
"He was.. frustrated. Yugi tried to understand the cause of your anger, and you threw his kindness back in his face." He pauses, the words fluttering in Seto's lungs, shaking his heart awake. "I heard he went to speak with you, and you turned him away." The grip on his hair recedes, Atem's arm coming to rest on the bony plane of his shoulders, drawing him in; the pharaoh's chin rests sedately on the crown of his head, and Seto finally finds his will to speak.
"I couldn't. Facing him after that was..," he trails off, eyelashes kissing the hollow of Atem's throat and leaning into his steadfast presence like a sunflower bends towards the light.
"You'll have to eventually," Atem says, voice tinted in fragments of blue, like spun glass in the hands of an amateur. Awkward in execution, flawed and solemnly beautiful all at once.
"I know."
Seto could live without him, of course - without either of them - but the thought is so repulsive, his brain immediately discards it in favor of something much less painful. Before his mouth can open to form the question of permission, his arms find their way around Atem's waist, an unyielding anchor among rough and choppy waters.
"I forgive you, but do not take it for weakness." An honest statement, but also more than that by miles. His forgiveness was always a gift - one given so readily, it was a wonder Atem had anything left to give away at all. The thumb on his upper arm traces intricate patterns on his skin - steady, firm, and familiar. He doesn’t even realize that his eyes have closed until they’re flitting open again; he meets the sight of Atem peering down at him, and the urge to flinch away from such open sympathy is palpable.
Seto murmurs Egyptian into the gentle sweep of Atem's collarbone and hopes, prays that it's enough. It drops from his tongue in sloppy, heaving breaths; hot tears filled with anger and shame in equal measure slip from his eyes and down his chin, drowning him in anguish and leaving nothing but a strange emptiness in its wake.
"Shh, beloved. It's going to be alright." Loving, tender fingers slick the hair back from his eyes, and Seto revels in the simple gesture, squeezing every bit of Atem he can until the pent up emotions from the last week work their way out of his system.
A numb, coarse emptiness is left behind, but the dragon - the most powerful man in Domino City, let alone Japan - has never felt so free. He saw crying as a weakness, a glaring fault of character. If that was true, then he had sunk to Yugi's level; once again, he was struck by just how uninhibited his lover really was. Completely unashamed of his baser emotions, gathering strength from his relationships and using them to power through each crisis that came his way.
Atem is a solemn parable of amazing grace - fierce and sturdy, endlessly picking up the pieces of his shattered life. Yugi is the glue that holds them together - a tiny pillar of strength, selfless and kind, offering his particular brand of love to anyone who needs it.
The prince in his ivory tower, brought low by a pair of pretty eyes - there is irony there, and his step-father must be turning in his grave, wherever that may be. Seto could hardly think of a better punishment.
"Where is he?"
The singular thought punches through the fog of emotion, and Seto regretfully draws back from his savior, scanning the bedroom as though Yugi would pop into existence from the sheer force of his will alone.
"I'm here." The soft reply is unmistakable. He would know it anywhere, in any life.
Yugi slips into the room, carefully shutting the door behind him. His eyes are dry, but a note of caution leaks into the measure of his steps, bare feet sinking into the lush beige carpet.
He's still wearing his work clothes - they all are, now that Seto is coherent enough for a second look - and he shoots Atem a questioning glance.
"I picked him up from work myself, and we drove over here as soon as we could."
The dragon nods, a moment of clarity to sweep away the fog of war within himself. He draws away from Atem, slowly easing back until he can focus solely on Yugi, who looks like a puppy that's been kicked around too often by a cruel master.
"I missed you, you know," he says, shifting his weight from one bare foot to the other. "I'm still a bit mad, but." A quick, bird-like dip of his shoulders, a soft exhalation of breath on the still air. "We needed some space, but we would never abandon you."
The infamous box - where Seto shoves all the emotions he cannot process in the moment - quivers, a nameless chill whispering a path down his spine to settle, a tiny whirlwind in his gut.
Yugi shares a brief look with his other half - sweet, and full of understanding - and he recognizes the private link they share at a glance. Seto swallows down the edge of envy; after all, he is the one responsible for its restoration.
A pair of eyes find their way back to him, bright and unfairly lovely. They draw him in like the tide, every bit as pristine as a cool Spring morning.
Keeping one hand steady on the dip of Atem's waist, his other hand slowly reaches out to Yugi - an offering and a summons strung together in a haphazard moment of want.
A slight moment of hesitation follows, rocking his weight back on a single foot, but Yugi wastes no more time on indecision, taking the offered hand and giving a marginal squeeze. His lips curve just barely, a darling cupid's bow that is achingly familiar and honey-sweet.
Seto draws him in until there is nowhere to go but the bed, or the warmth of his embrace.
Yugi chooses the latter, carefully slotting his body into place between two hearts, more dear to him than anything else in this life.
Seto's grip on his hand loosens, only to reach out with hesitant fingers to run them along the delicate chain of his collar. Rough calluses kiss the fragile skin in minute degrees, and he finds himself thanking whatever gods exist for such a gift. Yugi leans into the feather-light touch, humming softly under his breath, lips parted in silent enjoyment.
"Sorry for. Turning you away earlier." He was still so angry then - with himself, mostly - and couldn't bear to think he might say something else he would regret for the rest of his days.
"I guess I understand," Yugi murmurs, lacing his fingers with Atem's where they rest on the rounded edge of his boyfriend's shoulder. "You still didn't answer my question, though."
Talking would begin the healing process, he knew; now that both men were back in his arms, the only thing on his mind was never letting them go.
"While you two talk, I need to grab something." Atem clearly had other ideas, and while Seto was reluctant to relinquish his tenuous hold, he was far more willing to let the pharaoh do whatever he pleased in lieu of another argument. "I'll be right back, blue eyes. I promise." As if sensing the trepidation like it was leaking from every pore, the god between his legs takes the hand from his hip, planting treasured kisses to the bend of each knuckle.
Only then does Seto let him leave; with the promise of a quick return, he and Yugi are left to their own devices.
The palm of Yugi's hand settles on the crook of his neck, and Seto cannot look anywhere else but the star-bright man in his lap. His lips curl just slightly, a sweet invitation he cannot take. Not without giving Yugi what he wants first: closure. It's only right, he thinks, tipping the small silver heart above the hollow of his throat with a hesitant finger. A tiny bell-like note, like the tinkling of a wind chime sounds, and its presence almost makes him smile.
"You'll probably hate me when I tell you."
Even through the alcohol induced fugue, he is certain of that much. Yugi shakes his head, dandelion curls dancing in the half light.
"We all have baggage, Seto. You can tell me." His other hand comes to rest over top the one against his neck, pressing gently so the collar digs into the skin. "We can't work past this if you're not willing to let me in."
His thumb skates over the faceted sapphire embedded in the silver heart at his throat, but his focus lies in Yugi's sincere, open expression.
"What you have with them," he frowns, casting his eyes toward the ceiling as though it held the answers to all of his problems. "It doesn't make sense."
"What doesn't?" The question is followed by a silken touch to his scalp, sweeping the fringe from his eyes and lingering at the arches of his cheeks.
"Why you -" he scoffs, head bowing into the shelter of Yugi's arms. If he has to reveal so much of himself, he may as well get it over with. "Why you're still here."
A slight gust of breath passes over the shell of his ear, and Seto is fully aware of the flush that blossoms beneath the skin there. There is silence, no longer than it takes to feel the pulse throbbing beneath his fingers - so alive and thrumming with vigor.
"Correct me if I'm wrong here, but you don't think you're worthy of my love? Of our love?" Seto tenses in his arms, and that's all the answer he needs. "You idiot."
Yugi squeezes him tightly, a tiny grounding presence among the splintered fragments of his pride. Seto breathes him in, a mixture of wild nights, still mornings, and guilty pleasures. The urge to sweep him off his feet and press him into the mattress is cloudy and out of reach, but Yugi's intuition wins another round.
He moves in close, an unpredictable hurricane made flesh, sliding the hand from his neck to paint a warm line down the planes and angles of his chest to finally linger where his heart beats a steady, free rhythm. A gentle push is all he needs, and Seto's back hits the mattress before he has time to think between one breath and the next.
Arousal licks at his belly with tepid fingers, hands automatically coming to rest on the delicate stripe of skin below the hem of Yugi's shirt.
"You really are one of the best people I've ever met." His sincerity slices through the fog of doubt, as clean and sharp as a blade, and Seto cannot bear to look him in the eyes any longer. "Hey, listen to me." Tiny hands clamp down on either side of his face, turning it so that he is forced to stare into the sun-bright eyes - comparing them to gems or flowers is a disservice to everything that Yugi means to him - the force of his gaze nearly palpable.
"Don't patronize me."
The words are forced through the cage of his lips, lacking their customary bite and dissipating on the air before he could blink.
"I'm not, dragon." The endearment makes his heart soar, reminiscent of the scaled beast of legend, and Seto wonders for a brief moment if his blood runs just as cold. "You've done so many amazing things, not even counting what you've done for us." Yugi lifts a hand, ticking off each event on his fingers. "Before we even started dating, you were still kind. You literally gave me the new duel disk model, hired me without even blinking, got Atem and I a freakin' cat, gave us back the puzzle, and restored our lost mindlink."
"Exactly. You don't need me anymore."
Seto's brain latches onto the only negative: Yugi's link with Atem, something he could never compete with, and one of the catalysts that set these events in motion.
"Haven't we taught you anything?" He sighs, lax lips thoughtfully pursed as his thumb skates around the edge of Seto's cheekbone, claws of vanity carved into every cleft and divot of skin. "It's not just the big things that matter, y'know? Relationships are built on little things, too." Yugi shifts position just slightly, enough for the tips of his ears to burn and shame to run deep furrows into his stomach. "You have your bond with Atem, and I have mine. We're in this thing together, and I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be."
It reminds him of all the lectures on friendship and the Heart of the Cards he had to endure for so many years, and realization worms its way into his being - a slow crawl only hindered by what-if scenarios that scroll by without pause, flitting from one negative to the next until they are wiped clean, steam saturated glass finally coming into sharp, immaculate focus.
"He is not the only one, either."
The warm timbre of Atem's voice, confirming the words his heart cannot speak, wash over Seto in a submerging swell that robs him of breath and all reason. The bed dips, and the sight of miles of coiled dark copper and gilded lightning - familiar, lasting, unforgettable - is enough to quicken his pulse and bring light to the darkened fringes of his vision.
"Aw, what took you?"
Seto has to turn his head to a more comfortable angle as Yugi's fingers withdraw, reaching for something he cannot quite see. A furred head nudges against his flank, and he has to clamp down on the urge to snap at the poor feline staring back at him. Hawk-like eyes, slitted black pupils dancing with juvenile curiosity, the slight crook in the end of her tail, smooth whiskers, and sharp little teeth when she opens her mouth on the end of a meow.
A hand leaves the safety of Yugi's skin to ghost over the sleek grey fur. The soft music of Bastet's purring sets a resonating beat within Seto's own lungs - the gentle rumbling of twin beasts finding solace within chaos.
"I'm sorry, I had to coax her from under the loveseat." Atem stretches out, lithe and sensuous, awkward and perfect. Tilts a crooked smile their way, stilted and bright, glowing with unspoken affection for those most dear to him. Glimmering freckles of starlight bathe his hands in silver, reaching out to run his fingers along the path of her tail, and Seto has to swallow down the heated lump making its home in his throat when their fingers meet.
"Well, that's okay," Yugi says, fingers ghosting over the wide brow, sweeping the brown fringe aside and tearing Seto's attention away from the softly purring creature at his side. "I think our dragon still needs some convincing that we're not going anywhere."
Atem hums thoughtfully, a melody curling on his tongue that not even a choir of angels could surpass. "Well, it's not going to be easy. Relationships take a lot of work, but we'll get through this somehow." His fingers curl around the dragon's palm, heated skin against skin, and Seto drowns in the warmth of his easy love. "I believe in you -" his other hand reaches out, clasping Yugi's small hand in a calloused cage of devotion "- and I believe in us. What we have with each other can stand the test of time and weather the ages."
Seto's eyes close, slowly falling shut, drinking in the moment. There is a brush of cupid's silk to his temple, and his eyes open to lock gazes, steel-sharp and wanting, with the man he would traverse the edge of death for; to challenge him, a duel in perpetuity, continuing long after the veil of darkness calls them to their respective eternal slumbers.
"Why me?"
Bastet slinks off to the end of their bed, content to sit and watch her owners in their strange, disjointed dance of that thing called love.
"For a genius you're kind of stupid." Yugi continues, chasing the comet trail of his thoughts before Seto's lips can curl around a bitter retort. "Because you pushed us." He emphasizes the point by laying a palm to the broad chest beneath him and applying gentle pressure. "I was the timid nerd who played games in class rather than join in on what my classmates called 'fun'. You gave me something to shoot for, a goal to keep. You pushed me until I literally cried-" the memory is razor sharp and glass-clear, of Yugi on his hands and knees atop the castle parapet, begging and screaming for him to just stop "-and you still refused to let me give in. I'll never forget that."
Words fail him, eluding capture and tying his tongue in convoluted knots. He takes the hand from his chest and wraps his fingers all the way around, sliding between the free spaces and squeezing until breath finally fills his lungs and the moon-bright glow in Yugi's eyes catches fire.
"I waited three thousand years in golden, wicked solitude for a second chance to come along." Atem leans in close enough for their noses to touch, a mirror-thin barrier between longing and lust. "Then I met you. I remember the child you concealed beneath a shield of arrogance and hatred. That day I saw your heart; beneath the shroud of darkness, I saw light." Seto remembers that, too. Death T is still a decaying stain on his consciousness; every time he looks at the old man he nearly killed in a petulant show of graceless teenage angst, he thinks of Atem's raw power, staring down the triple threat of his beloved dragons and pulling victory from the ashes of defeat. "I will not throw it all away on a single gamble. Fate brought us together, but it is up to us to keep it that way."
"Don't you see, dragon?" The cadence of Yugi's voice, lilting and sugar sweet, drives the point home just as thoroughly as Atem's monologue. "You gave us something no one else has: the push to keep on moving, to climb higher than we ever have before."
"It is because of you that we were able to reach the top." There is still room for another set of fingers, and Atem's slide easily into the leftover spaces Yugi's cannot occupy. "And it is because of you that we will stay."
His breath hitches, stuck on an imaginary obstruction. If not for the blooming roses beneath his skin and the moisture pooling hot and thick at the corners of his eyes, Seto might think he had no heart to speak of. Perhaps all it needed was a master musician to pluck at their red strings, coating them in loving resin and keeping them in fine tune for days like these. If he chose to believe them - just as he had always done before the black beast of uncertainty clawed at his remaining resolve - then they were here to stay, despite every crack and fault in his armor.
Seto wipes the tears from his eyes and prays to the gods for one more chance; that he can keep the two of them by his side, until even the devil agrees that it is only right.
"I don't.. want to lose this." His grip on their hands tighten, cupping them in a shell of steel-tight resolve; Seto Kaiba's version of love in its grandiose entirety. "I wasn't thinking. Before, when I said.. those things." He swallows, taking slow, shallow breaths into heavy, shriveled lungs. Vows to never even think the words that broke them into prismatic, tinkling fragments of glass he'll be piecing back together for days and weeks to come.
Yugi's smile is tenuous and fleeting, wet and shining with tears. He leans in, and Seto has just enough time to count the stars in his eyes before their lips meet. Nothing else matters but the slide of parted lips, hesitant and sheer as a breath of silk. Seto's pulse beats a faint tattoo against Yugi's fingers, strident proof of their eternal bond.
It ends almost as soon as it begins; ephemeral in execution, but lasting in its intensity.
Yugi is the one to pull away, laughter at the corners of his lips and adoration in every inch of his gaze.
"I love you," he whispers into the long slope of his lover's neck, breath spilling onto the fine contours of skin.
Seto pictures silver sewn into every fiber of Yugi's being, imprinted in every touch and breathed into every sigh. Cool, refreshing, and just like home.
But he could never forget Atem, whose fingertips paint a fiery path down the side of his face, ghosting over the sharp jut of his chin and holding fast.
"Atem."
My lion, my rival, my savior.
"Seto."
My dragon, my rival, my mirror image.
Their thoughts seem to mingle, the jumble of what-ifs shoved aside for peace and order to resume their reign. Drunk on the healing elixir of forgiveness, he leans forward into Atem, and kisses him.
One arm snakes around Yugi's thin waist, clutching the man atop him with equal parts desperation and solace in a bid to keep both lovers within reach. A sliver of breath slips past Atem's parted lips, Seto's thumb skating across the line of his jaw; Atem's hum of pleasure trilling soft against his mouth and kissing him back - all of it swallowing Seto's senses whole and painting his world in vivid sunset hues. His fingers dance over Atem's jugular, the melody of his pulse pounding deep, swift and so alive. Seto licking warmly into Atem, the taste of whiskey lingering, starch and damp on his tongue, and Seto fitting just right within all of Atem's gilded grace, like they've always been made that way.
He forgets all about slivers of glass and portraits of sorrow, bundled up in Atem's forgiving arms.
Atem's lips leave his to speak a smattering of Egyptian - heavy and full of glittering emotion - into the shell of his ear, and the force of his conviction leaves Seto staggering for breath.
"You guys know that's hot, right?"
A sputtering laugh - stilted and bewitching - cleaves the air, and Atem rolls off him, graceless and carefree like Seto has never seen him before.
"I'm not translating that," Seto mutters dryly, adjusting his position so he is sitting with his back against the mound of pillows, Yugi pliant and settled in his lap.
"That's okay, babe. I'll learn it for myself one day."
He grunts in displeasure as Yugi clambers from his lap to collapse, half on top of an unwilling Bastet, fingers dancing over the squishy toe beans. She squirms just out of his grasp and hops into Atem's lap with a parting flick of her tail.
Seto runs his tongue over the shell of his teeth and finds the gritty taste of alcohol - still fresh and crisp as a summer evening - coating the enamel. Neither had complained about the awful aftertaste that kissing him must have left behind, but he is no fool; their silence rings loud and clear.
"I'll be right back," he mutters, climbing over Yugi and making his way to the bathroom.
"Don't take too long, okay? Baby is tired and needs his nap."
"Oh? And who is baby?" Seto catches the edge of Atem's knowing smirk as he scratches his cat behind the ears, all drowsy sunlight and sprawling curves.
"I'm baby, duh."
Their joined laughter - silver bells and auric drums - linger long after Seto closes the door behind him.
He takes his time, brushing the whiskey stains from his teeth and splashing new life into his eyes with every handful of water he can manage. His reflection stares him down, a glimpse into a mirror world where everything stays the same; from the song of his heart to the flickering light in his eyes.
Seto swipes a hand across the smooth glass surface and dares to hope; with this gesture, his slate is wiped clean, and he can return to his bright and picturesque existence.
Only this time, he will not be alone.
