Work Text:
Yugi set the ceramic vase down on the kitchen counter, cracking a half-smile as his fingertips ran over the textured surface, the polished green paint reflecting the bright overhead light. It looked a little bare maybe, without any flowers to put in it, but surrounded by bottomless boxes and general haphazard mess, a floral arrangement was the least of his concerns.
He had purchased a home. A house, to be exact. A teeny, tiny house would be more exact. On the outskirts of Domino, twenty-five minutes by car from the Kame Game Shop. Not much distance to some (Anzu had settled almost 7000 miles away in New York), but now thirty-three and facing into the future, Yugi felt that this here was the right spot, the place he would find a life for himself – a modest distance from the immediate streets of his youth but one that held a straight pathway back when called for.
His grandfather had waved him off, face and hands weathered with age, but body and mind still going strong. Yugi would worry about the years when that body and mind began to fail only when it happened, now was now and Mutou Sugoroku was as feisty as ever. His grandpa had retired, handing over the general running of the store to a well-meaning young man called Satoshi, who’s gaming passion rivalled that of the legendary Mutou family. Yugi was glad for it, his own time these last years consumed with Spherium and its subsequent releases, as well as a few other gaming projects he was tinkering with in the late hours of his freer days.
Spherium had paid for this house. Well, plus a small mortgage, but the healthy deposit was due to his game alone. As wild as that still seemed, his gaming design capabilities had come to the fore in his mid-twenties, the flames fanned by Kaiba’s demanding, relentless and often scathing encouragement, his company onboarding the project following Yugi’s original independent launch at the World Games conference seven years ago. Kaiba had called him personally following the release, not to offer him anything or to congratulate or criticise. But simply to request a game with him.
Even now Yugi refused to think back on just how flattered he was. The feeling had soon been trumped by awe, as Kaiba casually dropped in the fact they would face off at his space station. Yugi never understood why this was necessary that first time, attributing it to the man’s flair for dramatics. As domineering, sharp and immovable as Kaiba was at times, there were certain quirky pieces to the puzzle of his character that Yugi had enjoyed discovering over their adult years, particularly whilst working with him.
For instance, he’d learned that Kaiba programmed rather chatty personality settings into his AI assistants and then proceeded to have arguments with them when they got sassy. He favoured milky coffee – not black, shock horror – sometimes even with a sprinkling of cocoa powder. He talked to himself while he worked (Mokuba, perhaps conspiratorially, had let Yugi in on that particular habit). And of course, he’d built a space station because he could, using it to facilitate a one-time inter-dimensional journey to see a long-time rival, incorporating pseudo-magic elements that only a few years before these events he would have viciously declared ‘mystic nonsense’.
Yeah, Kaiba was quite the character under that suit and success, and whilst the years had not melted his stoicism, the definition of who he was had blurred around the edges for Yugi, into what he still wasn’t sure.
Smiling absentmindedly at the memories, he popped open the box closest to him before he could change his mind and go procrastinate over a cup of tea.
However, upon withdrawing a series of carefully wrapped mismatched mugs, he decided it was a sign and filled the kettle anyway.
-
As darkness fell in the early evening hours, the warm glow of Yugi’s living room lamp popped into existence, casting light and shadow over his half-filled bookshelf, its rows carefully lined with fantasy novels, old gaming strategy texts, photo frames filled with loved faces and a variety of Duel Weekly magazines which held noteworthy duelling circuit stats of him and his friends throughout the years. The rest of the shelf’s intended contents lay at the bottom of a seemingly endless cardboard box.
Blowing a strand of golden hair out of his eyes, Yugi collapsed back onto his couch, sinking into the cushions as a wave of good tiredness washed over him. Whilst incredibly worn, the two-seater sofa remained as welcoming as it did in its previous home. His grandfather had insisted he take it, so they’d divided the set – two chairs there, one small sofa here. One old Mutou there, one younger Mutou here. He was grateful, genuinely unable to afford one right now following a rush to purchase a new bed, kitchen table and chairs, as well as a fridge and hoover – all modest, still none particularly budget friendly. Adulthood was just frustratingly like that.
His stomach growling forced Yugi to stir from his cushion-bound form, dragging himself up, half-ready to brave the sea of boxes labelled ‘Kitchen?’ to fish out a frying pan. Stir-fry was all he could muster the energy for, rooting around in his budget-breaking fridge to make the most of every vegetable in sight.
The sizzle of the pan was a welcome sound in the quiet, and he found himself humming as he added tofu, followed by soy, honey and ginger. He hadn’t found the rice-cooker yet so noodles it was, throwing them into bubbling water with a swishing sound, their medium size softening in minutes, before being tossed into the delicious medley of ingredients waiting to be devoured.
Simple but delicious.
He had just spooned a serving into a bowl and had his chopsticks to his mouth when he jumped at the intense jingle of the doorbell. His doorbell.
Its first ring.
Placing the utensils down, he tentatively stood up from the kitchen bar stool he’d haphazardly placed along the counter for his solo meal, his actual kitchen chairs still in pieces on their way from a store in Tokyo. Socked feet traipsed into the hallway, tilting his head as he approached the door, unable to make out any form or shape beyond the solid frame.
The address had so far only been given to a handful of people, and he knew for a fact none of the small few were due to visit. Besides they’d have called first.
Although, when was the last time he’d looked at his phone? Or more importantly, where was his phone?
A second ring startled him and he hurried forward, guesses lost to the void as he undid the latch, and the door swung inward.
Kaiba Seto stood on the front step, dressed in an impeccable cobalt suit, briefcase in hand, eyes narrowed in irritation. Or maybe that’s just how he usually looked when he appeared at someone’s door unannounced. The cool night air blew around him, pulling at his lapels, as if summoned by his very presence.
“Kaiba..? Hi, what are you doing here?”
“Answer your phone,” was the greeting, those eyes inching to a squint.
A pause.
“That’s not exactly an explanation, you know,” Yugi stated, but he moved aside to invite the taller man in.
Kaiba’s brows pinched slightly, as if he hadn’t expected to have to step inside, but he did so anyway.
“My team – and I – have been calling you for the last two hours, I want your sign off on the press schedule for the Spherium IV expansion pack.”
Crap. The one day he goes offline to be productive in his personal life is the one day his professional life tries to get a hold of him.
They entered the kitchen, Kaiba’s gaze assessing the scene with forensic scrutiny, raising an eyebrow at an alarming array of pots stacked dangerously on the kitchen table. Yugi followed his line of sight, a tint of red blushing his ears as he moved to halve the cookware tower to much safer heights.
“Right, sorry. I’ve been offline for the day. To be honest I’ve no idea where my phone is.”
“Hm, I wonder why,” was the dry assessment. Sarcastic, yes. Joke-adjacent, also yes.
Yugi crossed his arms defensively, casting an accusatory look in Kaiba’s direction, one his sixteen-year-old self wouldn’t have dared level.
“Instead of us standing here and mutually agreeing that I am a disaster in all areas related to packing and unpacking, why don’t you tell me how you found me here? I literally moved today.”
“I told you before. I know everything that goes on in Domino.”
Yugi sighed, exasperated but maybe a little amused. “And that’s still cryptic and scary, sixteen years on.”
Kaiba only dignified his comment with a small smirk.
“I really hope you’re not tracking me somehow. I know for a fact my account on the Duel Disk system is currently offline.”
The CEO huffed. “Please Yugi, don’t flatter yourself.” However, he didn’t offer further explanation.
Yugi eyed him warily, but let it go.
“Do you want tea?”
The subject flip seemed to throw the taller man.
“What?”
Yugi moved to flick the switch on the kettle. “Um, tea?”
“No.”
The switch was promptly unswitched.
“Want some tofu and vegetable stir fry?”
It was as if it took several seconds for the words to process in the air, but eventually Kaiba’s eyebrows dipped, gaze travelling to the pan on the stove and then to the abandoned bowl on the counter.
“I didn’t come here for dinner.”
A few years ago, Yugi would have read that sentence as rude. Now, he could hear the difference in tone. Unapologetic for interfering with Yugi’s schedule, but also not willing to interfere with it more than necessary. If only Kaiba realised that having dinner wouldn’t be an inconvenience, it would be… well, not inconvenient. A nice change of pace to their existing dynamic really.
“Ok, suit yourself. So, what do you need me to look over?”
Kaiba was all business then, setting down his briefcase to retrieve a sleek tablet storing several pages of e-documents awaiting a signature.
“I sent them to you earlier, but I couldn’t wait any longer, we need sign off by 10pm.”
Ok, there was the explanation. And a little dig. Yugi apologised again and gently set the tablet on the counter, scrolling through with an efficiency he saved for duelling and work. Kaiba refused the offer of the solo seat in the room, seemingly content to stand and sweep his all-seeing eyes over the humble space.
“This is a quiet neighbourhood,” he finally offered, the offhand remark taking Yugi by surprise. Purple eyes glanced up from the tablet. A comment like that almost passed for normal conversation and he smiled.
“Yeah, helps me think, I’m mostly going to work from home so it’s good. And I like the privacy, being out of the city centre.”
Yugi returned to his reading, voicing a handful of questions before he added his signature to the documents with a scribble of the electronic pen.
“Done,” he said, brightly. “All looks in order, I’m looking forward to it. The introduction of hidden battlefields based on logical puzzle solving will be exciting to see in public play.”
Kaiba made a small noise of agreement as his tech was carefully stowed away. “It will be interesting to see the percentage of players who reach the level twenty fields. Not many, I’m assuming.”
Ok, so there was the slightly scathing attitude Kaiba would never truly shed so long as his competitive streak remained. And that was essentially eternal. But Yugi found he didn’t mind, grinning over at him. “People might surprise you.”
A slight scoff. “They rarely do.”
“Want to bet on it?”
The challenge instantly summoned an unnerving glint in the CEO’s eyes, the blue rigid in their stare into Yugi’s own. “Go on.”
Yugi stalled. He had said the words more in playful argument than an actual ‘I’ll follow through with this’ suggestion.
Impatient eyes watched him.
“Ok, let’s say if over fifty percent of new players discover the level twenty fields within the first seven days of release for public gameplay, I win.”
Kaiba’s head tilted slightly. Yugi could almost see him running the numbers in his head.
“Fine. But when I inevitably win this wager, you’ll agree to attend any relevant in-person weekend briefings at KaibaCorp for the next three months.”
Yugi winced. It had been a topic of discussion between them in the past, the fact that he did not, unless it was an emergency, do office hours on Sundays. Saturday yes, when needed, but Sunday, no. He wondered if this was a good idea and exactly how many Sunday meetings Kaiba and his hyper-efficient team could possibly inflict on him.
“Yeah, ok. But, if I win…”
He paused for a moment, tossing the idea around in his head. Was it weird to ask?
“You’ll come back here and eat dinner. With me… obviously.”
Deathly silence followed immediately. Yugi swallowed hard.
Kaiba was looking at him as if he’d announced his intention to go on holidays with Pegasus. But the mild hostility in his expression eventually levelled out to something flat.
“You want me to have dinner. Here.”
It wasn’t phrased as a question, more like passive-aggressive confirmation.
Yugi was regretting his entire existence, but it was too late.
“Yup.”
A solid stare. “Why?”
“Why not.”
And it seemed, for once in his self-assured existence, Kaiba had no response.
-
The kitchen was unpacked in full a little over two weeks later, cookware safely stowed in pan drawers that Yugi was far too pleased about having. His spice rack was full, and the rice cooker sat happily on the countertop.
The dining chairs were delayed, misdelivered somewhere on the other side of the city. He’d have them in two days. Not great timing considering, but he’d make do, finding a second breakfast stool to place at the counter. It was a tad informal, but he was working with what he had.
The bedroom was fully furnished now, complete with a neat, embroidered rug he’d found at a homeware market that morning. It had a multitude of blue tones woven amongst golden thread, the shine just enough to catch the winter sun when it was low in the window’s view – as it was now, orange rays warming the glass despite the dropping temperatures.
The heat was on full, and the house was positively cosy, lamps lit throughout, gleaming like a beacon in the darkening neighbourhood.
Every precious photo he owned had a place, the group pictures where Atem stood out clearly placed lovingly in front. The instinct to make room for him would never leave Yugi, and the pharaoh’s quiet smile or calm seriousness could be found in almost every room in the small house, the supply of photos mostly thanks to KaibaCorp’s visual tracking of duelling events throughout the years. It was just a shame they could never be in the same shot together.
Picking up a gilt frame that showed a jubilant Jou and mildly amused Atem amidst the KaibaCorp Grand Prix tournament, Yugi could do nothing but smile sadly at it. It still stung, as all grief did. But getting to see the pharaoh following their encounter with Diva had helped, tremendously. Their final duel and subsequent goodbye were never going to amount to closure, but seeing Atem in all his glory for that one moment, returning to save them all again, that was closer to being enough.
And it was thanks to Kaiba. The stubborn, self-centred, reckless determination only he could wield so well had given Yugi what he needed most.
He would always be grateful.
And a miniscule representation of his gratitude was currently underway atop his cooker and in his oven. A beef katsu curry (made using fillet despite his heart attack at the price), and a simple but morish lemon cake, respectively.
Homely, but hopefully enough to impress. Well, not that he could picture Kaiba being impressed by much. Satisfied, maybe.
The curry was ready to come off the heat, and the sponge of the cake was perfectly cooked through, just as the doorbell rang.
-
Yugi talked too much through dinner, mostly to distract himself from watching to see if Kaiba was actually eating. It was only as he moved to clear the plates that he confirmed the curry was gone. Relief.
The CEO hadn’t said much. But he hadn’t complained either. Not when Yugi announced a lack of dining room seats, not when they had to sit face-to-face across the counter, not when Yugi spilled ginger ale on himself. And definitely not when the lemon cake was sat down in front of him.
“You made dessert.”
A statement, not a question. One delivered with slight disbelief.
“Sure, I like to bake. This is one of my favourites. I do a good Black Forest gateau too but the cherries at the store weren’t great so…” Yugi trailed off under the now intense scrutiny of far-too blue eyes.
“Do you not like lemon cake?”
A frown was his only answer, but clearly this wasn’t the case as Kaiba eventually picked up his fork to spear a bite and ate it without criticism.
-
It was an odd evening really. Not exactly flowing conversation and Yugi found he couldn’t decipher a number of Kaiba’s expressions throughout. He didn’t give the man a tour of the house, that would have been awkward. He didn’t show him the new wine glasses he’d bought, their stems dipped with a smoky marble effect that he thought was gothic in all the right ways. He resisted pulling an old Duel Weekly from his living room shelf to highlight a Battle City promo piece. He definitely didn’t mention the fact there was a picture of Kaiba and himself from their recent press conference amongst the collection of frames on the upstairs landing. Though that would promptly be given away if Kaiba took a trip to the bathroom at any stage.
All in all, it was just plain weird. And it was also the best evening Yugi had had in a long time. As the night aged, he didn't want it to end. But he had to concede when the clock struck eleven and Kaiba seemed to settle back into himself, straightening from where he had started to slouch, flexing his fingers where they had sat against the countertop relaxed.
Yugi found himself smiling at him for no apparent reason.
Kaiba didn’t smile back, but a half-scoff-turned-huff that definitely had a colour of amusement left his lips.
“This was ridiculous,” he announced.
“You lost,” Yugi said simply, shrugging his shoulders, perhaps purposefully baiting him.
A strong eye roll. “The public are insufferable; the one time they decide to employ a modicum of competence.”
“Harsh.”
“Factually correct,” Kaiba rebutted, moving to stand. “But I honoured my terms, I hope you’re happy.”
“I really am.”
Something about that gave pause to both of them, a stillness that occupied a long moment.
Yugi was the one to break it. “So, do I have to make another bet with you to get you to come back or was this a one-time-wager situation?”
Kaiba’s hands slowed slightly in his efforts to put on his coat and he didn’t answer until he had fixed his collar, lifting his chin and regarding Yugi with some level of measured curiosity. Eyes once again roamed the space around him, much as they had during the first visit. A messier kitchen thanks to careful cooking and enjoyable eating, a dining table without chairs sitting sturdy against the wall waiting for its glory days, two mismatched bar stools set at a counter, four slices of lemon cake sitting on an ornate stand nearby, the vanilla and citrus scent still permeating the air, pale rays of warm lamplight falling in from the open living room door and a general sense of previously strewn pieces of life slotting together, the finishing touches, some yet still to be fitted.
His gaze found a bunch of fresh tulips standing tall in a polished green vase.
“I prefer morello cherries when it comes to dessert.”
The remark sat there for a blink of a moment.
Then a soft sort of brightness danced across Yugi’s face. “I’m sure my Black Forest recipe can handle one small change.”
“You mean one big improvement.”
Yugi shook his head in exasperation, lips threatening to curve into a smile. “Same time next weekend?”
“Hm, a week, really. Does it take that long to make a cake?”
The smile won out.
End