Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

June 28th is a perfectly ordinary date on the calendar. It’s a Wednesday like any other. There’s a predictable routine to life nowadays, and one he’s grown quite fond of. There are the occasional days of excitement, with some attempted kidnappings, or video game launch days, or that one time they got stuck in a beta-stage VR horror game because someone fiddled with what shouldn’t have been fiddled with, but that’s par for the course with the lives they lead.

This morning, like every morning, Seto’s out of bed first. He locates his clothes for the day in the small sliver of sunshine filtering in through the closed blinds and shuts himself in the en-suite bathroom to get ready while leaving Ryou in a cocoon of blankets. He steps out freshly showered, dressed, hair combed, and smelling like the cologne he’s worn for the last several years since Ryou declared it his favourite.

Ryou, always with a pout and a whine, stumbles his way into the bathroom next. He only bothers with using the toilet, brushing his teeth, and either brushing his hair or simply tying it off to the side. When he’s done, he joins Seto in the dining room for breakfast and coffee prepared by their wonderful chef. Ryou loves being in charge of the majority of the household cooking, but having someone else handling breakfast is the only way to ensure they both actually have some. 

They don’t talk much while they eat. Ryou’s still half-asleep and Seto’s reading the morning news, and it’s comfortable for them. For a time Ryou hadn’t gotten up at the same time as Seto, but even though he doesn’t have a steady nine-to-five, it helps stabilize his schedule. And, he’d admitted, he found not seeing Seto in the day until after he was done work to be too long. He takes advantage of the time they have together since Seto’s frequently away on business trips.

After the dishes are cleared away, they exchange a few kisses and a goodbye and Seto’s off to KaibaCorp for his workday.

Ryou does a few simple chores around the house, he tidies their room and rummages through the kitchen for dinner inspiration. He tentatively decides on pork and rice. Distractions completed, he gets back to work on his ongoing commissions.

He has the sketches done for two paintings, a third has finished drying and is in need of its next coat, and he has two figurines needing a few finishing touches and a final look over. He starts with those; his self-assigned deadline is fast approaching.

At his desk surrounded by half-finished commissions and projects is where he can be found at one o’clock on Wednesday, June 28th, a perfectly ordinary day like hundreds before it.

Seto will be home by six, he has a few more hours to himself. He’ll be at his desk, ignoring his bodily needs, until the alarm on his phone goes off telling him it’s time to get dinner started.  He has music blaring, his beloved playlist of horror game instrumental music, in order to keep himself in the zone; it blocks out the distant footfalls of their household staff, some his security detail and some keeping the absurd amount of empty rooms clean in the off chance everyone they know needs a place to stay on the same night.

He isn’t the type to get scared easily, not since he was a child watching scary movies without his parents’ permission and even less so after his time being literally possessed. He knows there are far worse things in this world than clowns or sharks or murderers around the corner.

None the less, the loud sudden thump behind him makes him jump in his seat.

He drops the figure and paintbrush, luckily he hadn’t been in the middle of applying any paint, and he spins his seat to face the noise.

A red lump lies in the center of the large, cluttered, room. His eyes flicker up - his initial thought is that a ninja came in through the ceiling, but it’s hole-free and damage-free. They move next to the window, but it’s closed and in his peripheral while at his desk, he’d have seen anyone climbing through it. Lastly, the door, and that’s shut, as he’d left it. Hm.

His gaze drops back to the lump.

It twitches.

His heart’s beating with anxiety, primal instinct of fight or flight kicking up, but the fear doesn’t come.

He has no weapons in this room, aside from a few carving knives. His one and only attempt at learning to use a gun had been so disastrous that he and Seto had determined he was more likely to injure himself than an intruder and decided to leave his safety firmly in the hands of their security team. A scream will have someone come running.

At this point, he’s more curious about how the person got into the room, and something in his gut recognizes and prioritizes the oddness of it.

Two brown hands slip free of the material, sleeves taking shape in the lump. They place themselves firmly on the floor and push, until the figure can lift his face and body and sit on his haunches.

Their gazes meet.

Ryou stands without realizing it. He takes a tentative step forward.

A wide, happy, grin spreads across chapped sun-dry lips. Purples eyes glimmer with joy. The short grey-white hair frames a face Ryou knows all too well. One that’s haunted his dreams, and nightmares, for as long as he can remember. He jumps to his feet, the red material taking its true form as a cloak. He stands a little shorter than Ryou, half-naked with a white shenti and shoes, and laden with all manner of golden jewellery.

But he’s not exactly as Ryou remembers. He’s older, and Ryou can’t quite pinpoint how he can tell. His ribs are still visible on an inhale, he’s strong from manual labour but starved from poverty. There are no wrinkles along his eyes or mouth to indicate he’s older than Ryou himself, who will be getting to that point soon, but the boyish tinge to his cheeks, to his jaw line, to his frame, is gone.

“… Wha-…” he breathes out. He can’t form the question.

He can’t think.

He took his meds, he takes them every night at ten o’clock on the dot. He’s forgetful, so Seto makes sure it’s done; that means it’s done. Not that hallucinations have ever been one of his symptoms, but who knows? Maybe… maybe it was something in their breakfast. Maybe their chef turned on them, poisoned him for some reason? No, she's much too kind, he knows the deceptive sort and she's not it.

Why would this be happening now of all times? What did he do… or not do?

This is the person he thinks about at least once a day, every day since he’s been gone. And he’s gone. He knows this for a fact.

Or… he’d thought it was fact.

“Ryou!” The person shouts in unrestricted delight.

He’s not sick enough, has never gotten so bad, that he would imagine him in such detail. A whisper of his voice, very vivid dreams, but not…not this.

Not someone who can stand, entirely corporeal, with the subtle details of a dimple on his right cheek beneath a scar that looks harsher in this light, and a scrape on his left knee, and a speck of dirt on his left slipper. A person who is whole with the blemishes and imperfections that his imagination would wipe away in its recreations.

Two hands cup Ryou’s face.

They’re hot. A person loved by the sun, as much as he is loved by Ryou.

They’re real.

He’s kissed.

The rightness grips his heart tight and his lips respond. His blood sings with wonder and bliss. Then - this morning. He’d kissed Seto goodbye. Seto… Seto. No.

He places a hand on his chest and gently pushes him back. The inquisitive look hurts, as much as the betrayal he’s just committed.

“I… I’m married.”

The questions - why? why? how? how? how?

They are not as important as declaring this boundary.

The happiness vanishes. Ryou slips back into his chair, sitting on the seat's edge and hands laying limp in his lap.

“Oh.” A feeble whisper.

He drops at Ryou’s feet and takes his hands in his. He spins the ring on his left ring finger; a simple black band that won’t get in the way when he works. The black matches his chipped nail polish and his tastes. Seto may like dramatics, his own ring a silver band with a blue ribbon around it (the same blue as Ryou’s eyes, is the romantic answer, and the same blue as his favourite dragon, they both know to be true),  but Ryou likes practical.

“I didn’t think it would take this long to get back… who?” he asks.

“Seto,” the name a caress on his tongue. A name so loved it can come easily to him, despite the shock and anxiety fogging his thoughts.

“You nabbed Kaiba?! I guess not even a guy like that is immune to a face like this.” He cups his face with one hand, thumb brushing over his cheek and his fingertips digging into his hair.

Ryou releases a shaky breath, his eyes are starting to burn with tears now that the reality of this is sinking in. He chokes out, “… how? Wh… why?” His hand comes up to cover his, the press of skin familiar and yet achingly new.

Their other hands remain clasped together on Ryou’s thigh, the pressure of his ring felt by both.

“I wasn’t ready for the other side yet. I still had a life to live, and the Gods let me earn my way back to you.”

“Are you hurt?” His gaze trails down, re-inspecting him, but at this angle he appears fine.

“No, not anymore. Not now that I’m with you.”

A sob wracks through Ryou. He falls forward off the chair and lands in his lap. He throws his arms around his neck and cries into his shoulder. The hug is immediately returned, he’s held just as tightly as he’s holding.

He cries and sobs, his face growing warm from the force of it. His heart drains the years of yearning. After a short time, he feels dampness in the shoulder of his shirt, his own sentiments mirrored by his other half.

“Gods,” he mumbles weakly, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’m always going to come back to you, Ryou. Forever.”

Ryou rests their foreheads together and he cradles his face in his hands. Warm puffs of air brush across his lips, but there’s no attempt to close the distance.

“This… this is your old body.” He remembers spending an inordinate amount of time perfecting that particular figurine; it’s a body he knows as intimately as his own “Do you remember everything?”

“Yes. All the bad, and all the good. The really good and the really bad. I remember promising that I’d always come back to you. How long… how long did it take?”

“It, um,” he swallows down a sob, “it’s been about twelve years.”

His eyes widen and he pulls back. His gaze roves over Ryou, gauging him and the passage of time.

“Are you serious?” he asks, his tone begging for a lie.

“I’m sorry.”

His breath grows heavy, and his voice wavers, “But… I tried so hard! I…”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, I know you got here as fast as anyone could, you - you defied death! Again! You’re so - so… you’re so amazing.” 

It hurts when he drops his forehead against his, the impact harder than he’d intended, but the tiny grunt he gets is a reminder of his humanity. He’s real, he’s here in his arms. Alive and whole and demon-free.

“We’re going to figure this out,” he reassures. “We’re doing this together, okay?”

“What about Kaiba?” His hand encircles his fingers, putting pressure against his ring.

“Seto knows exactly what you mean to me. I haven't kept this a secret from him. But I love him, and that means we’re not… we can’t be the way we used to be. I know that hurts, and it’s not what you expected, but I’m not abandoning you.”

“But…” he wets his dry lips and with the utmost honesty says, “I came back for you. If I can’t have you, why am I here? Why did the Gods let me… are they going to punish me forever? Am I doomed to live and die in suffering eternally?”

“Oh, darling.” 

He draws him into a hug. This time, his other half is the one who sobs.

“I can’t be your lover but I can be your friend. How much I love you will never change. I want you here, in whatever way I can have you. I’m excited for you to live, you finally have a life that’s all your own, please be excited too. Please want to be here. Even if things are different. Even if we’re not the same. Please.”

“… Okay.”

Chapter Text

They settle in the living room. Ryou gets one of the household staff to bring them tea, water, and snacks. No one asks about their guest, Ryou may be very friendly with them but they know not to get involved in personal matters.

They sit too close on the couch, but Ryou can’t bear being apart from him. Their thighs touch, and it’s enough.

It has to be enough.

Tell me everything, he implores of his other half.

With haunted eyes, red-rimmed from tears, he tells his side of the last twelve years.

After losing to the pharaoh, to Atem, Necrophades was returned to the Shadow Realm - a God can’t be killed, not entirely. He dragged the torn soul that had once been Kul Elna’s aspiring saviour with him, and lost him somewhere in the shadows. Or left him for dead. 

He’d lost, and it took time to accept that. He screamed himself hoarse, he cried until his bones ached, he kicked and punched and threw fits borne from anger and desperation. In time, acceptance bloomed. His people were at peace; he felt that truth in every cell of his body. In the end he gave them respite, and when revenge was out of reach, that was the next best thing.

That gave way for love to surface. He’d loved his host, but the darkness had shrouded it, making it feel more like lust and desire. Ryou had proclaimed his love, more than once, and he’d never been able to reciprocate. Now he would; he’d get back to him, as he’d promised.

-o-o-o-

“You’re not going to win this game… what happens when you lose?” His host had asked, blunt as always. He'd created dozens of figures, dioramas, bought pounds and pounds of sand to build the most intricate recreating of a kingdom long gone, all for a game he believed would fail - that was his ultimate display of love.

“Darkness always wins in the end. But - since you asked - death, probably. What else is there after the end?”

“This game doesn’t have to be our ending.”

“No, it’s mine. Win or lose, I, as you know me, will not be coming out on the other side. It’ll be Zorc… or the pharaoh.”

“I see… Will we find each other again? In the afterlife? Or… maybe we’ll be reincarnated. Maybe we’ll get brand new lives and find each other again.”

“Don’t be sappy. We’re connected, of course we’ll find each other again. I have need of you, my dear host. In this life or the next, I’ll find my way to you.”

His attempts to distance himself from Ryou were always half-hearted, in those last few weeks. His host could see his affections, despite the walls he built between them. Ryou had only smiled, seeming reassured, and continued his work on one of the pharaoh’s priests.

-o-o-o-

With his mind finally clear of the evil God, and the obstruction between his heart and mind, he followed the part of his soul forever connected to Ryou. The shadows eventually parted for him, and his steps lead him into sun and sand, so much like home.

He’d heard the voice of the Gods, he was not worthy of seeing them, he assumed. They offered him challenges, and he would be given a second chance to go home - his new home; in Japan with Ryou.

He isn’t willing to share exactly what those challenges consisted of with Ryou. It was difficult, but worth it; that’s all he says about them.

“I’d do it all over again, no questions asked. I never said it, everything was so confusing back then, but I love you. That’s how I managed to survive, by loving you.”

“I love you, too,” Ryou says, eyes filled with warmth and glistening with tears.

His hand caresses Ryou's cheek. Ryou gently removes it. He tangles their fingers and lowers their joined hands to his lap instead, a somewhat less intimate touch.

That love is genuine, even if disbelief crawls along his ribs. He’s the one who hurt this boy, now a man, more than anyone else in this world, more than the dead mother and sister, more than the negligent father, more than his own inner demons. But being in his head gave him a front row seat at his inner thoughts and the furthest corners of his soul.

Ryou truly forgives him for all the pain he’d caused him, has since he was a teenager still carting around a haunted necklace and helping him with his big final boss battle. When he says ‘I love you’, he means it with his whole heart - a heart now shared elsewhere.

“Okay, it’s your turn. How did you get that dragon dick?”

“Really?” Ryou gives him his most unimpressed glare.

It makes his grin slip into a smile. He’d missed that face, and the exasperation and the adoration and the lips and the hair…the love. Always the love. The desire to kiss is stomped down until it fizzles to cinders. He’s the primary perpetrator of not respecting Ryou’s body, that’s not him anymore. He won’t be that person again.

“So? How’d you turn your big fat crush into a wedding ring?”

Ryou’s cheeks turn red as he tells his half of the last twelve years. Focusing on the relationship part of it, since that’s what he wants to hear about right now.

He and Seto may have lived very exciting lives, but their courtship was blessedly mundane. They started dating at nineteen, Ryou finally acting on the crush he’d had on his classmate since he’d first met him. (He may have loved the spirit in the Millennium Ring, but that didn’t prevent him from finding the bossy and rude CEO attractive, especially his passion and flair for dramatics. And his handsome face helped.)

There was a bit of backlash when Seto’s sexuality came to light, but he’s Seto Kaiba and can do what he wants, and it eventually faded out on its own. In the span of a few years, Ryou moved in, they mutually decided to get married and Seto did a more formal proposal shortly thereafter, and the wedding was only a few months later. They were married at twenty-two.

Six years later and they’re as happy as ever.

There’s a painful squeezing in his chest at the simple unbridled joy in Ryou’s voice. The reminiscing is seeping with love and adoration for his partner and their relationship, and he’s torn between being happy for him and trying to keep afloat in the waves of envy rocking his thoughts side to side.

“I’m glad you weren’t lonely,” he says, the only thing he can say that won’t reveal the less flattering feelings in his heart.

He caused a lot of that loneliness, and without him around Ryou found his way to friendships and relationships. It stings, but ‘glad’ is an accurate description.

“It took a while. I never stopped missing you, but I adapted eventually. Seto was very understanding. He’s been so wonderful to me. He’s not the same person he was back then.”

“Neither are you.”

“Change is good. Change is growing up. You’re different too, you know? You’re not angry, not like you used to be.”

“I’m not sharing my brain with a dark God anymore. That helps puts things in perspective.”

“It’s a nice look on you.”

“I know what would be a nice-” His teasing grin drops as Ryou’s expression grows uncomfortable. He cuts short the flirty joke before he finishes it. It wasn’t a very good one anyway. “So, um, where’s Kaiba?”

“He’s at work. It’s Wednesday, June… twenty-something.” Ryou smiles gratefully at the shift back to casual conversation, and he tries not to feel disappointed.

“Judging by the giant house he’s still a rich bitch?”

“That’s my rich bitch you’re talking about, so please be nice. And please be nice when you see him, okay? This is going to be weird for him too.”

“Would it be better if I go? You don’t have to tell him I’m back.”

“Of course I’m going to tell him. There are no secrets in this household. Besides, where would you even go? You’re going to stay here until we can help you get everything sorted. You need identification, and you’ll need your vaccinations, and… other things, probably. That’s where Seto comes in, he’ll have a better idea how to make you a real person. With the government and whatnot, I mean. Wow, you’re a real person now…” Ryou’s voice drops to a whisper, almost as if he’s speaking to himself.

He softly touches his cheek, over the dimple and below the scar, a physical reminder that he is, in fact, not just a magical projection as he’d been when he was a teenager. Now he’s in his own body, rather than a reflection of Ryou’s own, and that makes the distinction visually easier, but it’s still difficult to fully grasp the truth.

His hand drops away as realization of his own action crosses his expression.

“I’m the realest I’ve been in three thousand years.”

“Yes, you are,” he agrees. “I know this is a lot. If it’s a lot for me I can only imagine what this is like for you. But we’re going to get through this together, I promise.”

Ryou gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Is Kaiba going to be fine with me loitering in his house?”

“We’ll talk when he gets back from work, but if it turns out he’s not comfortable with it, I’ll get you set up in a hotel close by and we’ll work from there. He knows I’m not going to leave you to fend for yourself, but I can see that he might not necessarily be okay with you being here. We’ll see how it plays out.”

“Is, um, shit what’s his name - baby Kaiba - is he around?”

“Mokuba has his own place down the road, but you’ll be seeing him soon enough. He’s over at least once a week for dinner.”

“Ah. He’s an adult then. He was such a shorty, I thought he was younger… How’s dear ol’ dad? Still kicking?”

“I…don’t know, actually. I assume someone would reach out if he wasn’t.” Much as he remembers his host, after the losses he’s already suffered, the mention of his father’s death doesn’t faze him.

“I thought with me gone it would’ve gotten better.”

“I tried, but…” Ryou shrugs. “I sent him a wedding invitation, and he didn’t show. He didn’t bother with any excuses. So… that was that. It’s fine though. I have Seto, and Mokuba, and our friends. And now I’ve got you. That’s all the family I need.”

“So fucking sappy.” He grins for a brief moment, before releasing a heavy sigh, “Alright, band-aid off. How’s the nerd herd? More importantly, how many of them will try to kill me when they find out I’m alive? And how do you feel about murder in self-defense?”

Ryou rolls his eyes.

“No one is going to try to kill you. There will be some explaining to do, I never told them about our relationship, not even that we were kind of friends, and they’ll wonder why we’re civil, but I’m not worried about it. They’ll understand.”

“You’re giving them too much credit.”

“Who’s been their friend for twelve years?” Ryou refutes. He shrugs, point made. “Everyone’s doing well. Yugi has been…” He goes on to tell him about each of them and about the happenings of the last twelve years, as much as he can in the amount of time they have. 

After the troubles of their teenage years, his friends have settled into normal lives. None of them got through the whole ordeal entirely unscathed, but they pulled through and allowed themselves to move forward.

Yugi has his own gaming company that’s focused on making board games. Katsuya is a professional duellist, currently taking part in a tournament somewhere in America. The two finally took the step into more-than-friends a few months ago. It was very coincidentally announced a couple of weeks after Hiroto’s wedding.

“And you’re sure the big lughead isn’t going to go for my head?”

Hiroto was always sweetly protective of Ryou, and likely is the one to worry about.

“He’’ll behave. His wife’s pregnant, he’s not going to risk getting into any trouble.”

“Shit. Kids? Do you-”

“No! That’s not in our plans at all.” Ryou laughs. “He’s the first in the group, actually. We’re all really excited. Megumi’s already losing her mind with how much Duel Monster merch she has for the baby, and I know Katsuya shipped another box from America last week. If anyone is getting murdered, it might be him.”

“You’re all still giant dorks.”

“Some things don’t change.”

“Also, I totally called it that those two were gonna fuck.”

“I remember.” The former spirit had made many, many, jokes about Yugi and Katsuya’s friendship. Ryou had blamed it on jealousy at their easy affections, even though at the time it hadn’t been romantic, it was still something that was out of reach for him.

He continues down the list of his friends. Their core group has remained the same, though partners have come and gone throughout the years. Anzu is back in Japan, now part of a dance troupe for the local theater, and he sees her as frequently as everyone else. Ryuji, Mai, and Shizuka are all people he hangs out with on occasion, though not as often.

“You might be surprised to know that Marik and I are pretty good friends.”

“Me? Surprised that you befriended the guy who used you as a puppet? Never. You and that damn bleeding heart.”

“While we didn’t go through the exact same thing, and we didn’t handle our trauma the same way, we understand each other in a way no one else can, not even Yugi. He helped me a lot those first few months after you were gone when I was hurting but too scared to tell anyone that I missed you. He comes down every year for a couple of weeks, he’s planning for September this year, so you’ll get to see him soon.”

He pulls a face.

He’d been salty about his defection to the pharaoh’s side, and thus his betrayal, and after the Battle City tournament had pushed him out of his thoughts entirely. Now, his mind a little clearer, the betrayal still stings slightly even if he can see that it was the right call. Necrophades had twisted his goal from vengeance to ending the world and had made that seem like the correct course of action, the logical route to take, but with newfound clarity he accepts that there’s no logic when dealing with a dark God and Marik had come to that realization sooner than he had.

Ryou, knowing his complicated feelings on the matter, offers a gentle smile.

“I think you’ll both benefit from talking things out, but we’ll get there when we get there.”

His phone, set on the table, beeps. Ryou picks it up and checks the alert. The front gate’s been opened.

“Oh. Seto’s home.” Mokuba comes by unannounced, but not during a workday. It’s four pm, earlier than usual, but it can only be his husband. “I’m going to meet him at the front door and tell him what’s going on. Sit here until I come back, okay?”

“Sure.”

Ryou gives his hand a final squeeze and leaves him in the living room alone with his thoughts.

Chapter Text

The front door only just clicks shut behind him when Ryou rounds the corner to greet him.

“Hi, baby! You’re home early.”

“Hey.” He steps out of his dress shoes and loosens his tie, giving his neck room to breath in the comfort of his own home. “I got your text.”

“I only said not to be late, I didn’t mean to make you worry!”

His text had been a simple, ‘Please make sure you’re home on time tonight. Thanks, love you’, sent a couple of hours ago while chatting with their guest. He hadn’t expected it to create a sense of urgency.

“There were no exclamation points, or emojis, so I assumed it was for something serious rather than romantic. Was I wrong?”

“Oh. No, you weren’t.” Ryou laughs softly at being called out. Well, he is usually more expressive in his texting.

“There you go. It’s fine, it was a slow day anyway. I only had a meeting at four-thirty that Mokuba was already attending too; there was no need for both of us to be there.”

“Okay,” Ryou doesn’t press it, Seto can manage his own schedule just fine. Mostly.

He slides into his slippers and walks up to Ryou. He gives him a brief kiss and asks, “What’s going on?”

Delaying the truth would only make him more anxious, and Ryou can tell he’s trying hard not to demand answers. Rather than bring him to a different room to sit and talk, he speaks here in the entryway.

“The spirit that used to be in the Millennium Ring, he’s back. He, ah, showed up in my office a few hours ago while I was working. Demon-free, this time. He’s… just a guy now. He’s in the living room.”

Seto’s expression remains carefully neutral as the words register. Ryou grabs his hand, to offer and take comfort, and Seto gives a gentle squeeze.

“I assume his sudden appearance is due to some… magical nonsense?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t elaborate, Seto doesn’t care about the ‘how’ when the answer involves magic. He continues, “Full disclosure, like we always promised - when he appeared it was sudden and surprising and I was really confused and… He kissed me, and for a second I kissed back. He knows, now, that we’re married, I set boundaries, and it’s not going to happen again, but I thought you should know. I’m so sorry.”

Seto shifts in place and stares at the floor for a moment. Even now his face shows nothing, whatever he’s feeling staying tucked deep inside, but their hands remain clasped. He’s not so disgusted as to cast him off immediately. After a few seconds of thought, his head lifts again and Ryou finds acceptance in his eyes, and his next breath comes easier.

“It’s okay. Someone coming back from the dead is a pretty good excuse for a lapse in judgment.”

“I promise it won’t happen again.”

“I believe you.” Seto kisses him. A slow, gentle pressure of lips, and an obvious claim to what’s his. They part with matching smiles.

Ryou’s quickly drops.

“So, the next thing… It’s up to you and how you feel about it, but would you be okay with him staying here? Just until I can get him settled. He doesn’t exactly have legal documents, or money, or anything. If he leaves there’s nowhere for him to go. And I swear, he understands that we’re together, he didn’t know when he first got here but he does now, and he won’t try anything.”

“I figured that's where this was heading. I…” Seto releases a slow steadying breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Let me sleep on it. Set him up in a guest room, and we can talk more about it tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Seto. Will you come say hi? You two have never really met, have you?”

“Not properly.”

“I know our history makes things complicated, but right now, he’s my friend. I’d like it if you two got along, though, I guess I get why that would be hard for you… I don’t know the protocol for this.”

“I’ll say hi, but that’s the most I can give right now.”

“Perfectly reasonable. Thank you.” He presses a loving kiss to their joined hands and pulls him to the living room.

The revived spirit now human has remained seated on the sofa. His feet are kicked up on the coffee table and his eyes are scanning the room and its meagre decorations. Neither homeowner have been inspired to shift their artistic pursuits towards interior decorating. He sits up when he spots them in the doorway, and he awkwardly pats down his clothes though he grins in an attempt to seem confident.

“Hey, Kaiba. You look… tall.”

Ryou coughs to hide his laugh.

“You remember Seto. Seto, this is… I always just called him Spirit. Do you remember your name now?”

The grin shifts to amusement, “How annoyed are you gonna be when I say it actually is ‘Bakura’? It’s pronounced a bit differently in my mother tongue, but that’s the best way to say it in Japanese.”

“Of course it would be. Well, seeing as I’m a Kaiba now, I suppose you can have that name all to yourself.”

The grin wavers, “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not. Seto, this is my friend Bakura.”

Seto wraps an arm around Ryou’s waist, intentionally or not staking his claim.

“Are you the only one to come back from the dead, or should I be expecting a call from Yugi?”

“Just me that I know of. I haven’t seen the pharaoh since that last game. He’s living the dream afterlife, I imagine.” He doesn’t hide his bitterness, and he looks away when Ryou’s face softens with something like pity.

He got his second chance at life, his goal to be reunited with his host has been realized, but… Somehow he’s still losing.

“Then I’ll get started on the fake ID. Is Bakura his given or family name?” Seto asks Ryou.

The spark of annoyance is irrational, Bakura tells himself. 

“Due to our, ah, history, I’d rather we didn’t share a family name. Just for my own sake, you know?”

Seto nods, “Okay. Then what will be his family name?”

“I don’t care,” he cuts in before Ryou can answer. “We didn’t have those back in my day, so just… use whatever. I don’t care.“

“I’ll figure it out, then. I leave you… this.” Seto gestures to their guest, like he’s a problem to be dealt with rather than a person.

“Thanks. I’ll have Ms. Fuyuki prepare dinner, she’ll bring you some when it’s ready. You’ll be in your office?” A nod. “Okay. Love you.”

Seto kisses his temple and leaves with one final, indecipherable, look at Bakura.

He can’t determine what Kaiba’s thinking. A decade ago, this guy would have blown a gasket, or challenged him to a duel. He’d been a big ball of uncontrolled emotion with no healthy outlets for them, not so different from Bakura. Time has affected them both. Or maybe it’s Ryou’s influence.

Ryou sits on the couch, returning to his previous spot. He sends a quick message to their chef to prepare dinner and sets his phone back down on the table. He smiles softly at Bakura, who can’t meet his gaze.

“I should go.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“He doesn’t want me here.”

“He needs time to adjust. On top of our past, you did come back to life. That’s a lot to take in.”

“I guess,” he mutters.

Ryou cups his cheek and turns his face until their eyes meet.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want, but I’m happy you’re here.”

“I know.”

“You remember everything now, right? Tell me about your family.”

-o-o-o-

He came to in complete darkness. The weighty feeling in his chest and the chill in his bones reminded him of the Shadow Realm, but it wasn’t quite right either. There are things in the Shadow Realm. Monsters, for one. Screaming and hollering, clanging weapons and tearing flesh and dripping blood, or what counts for it in this world. A castle would stand in the distance and no matter how many steps one took they would never get nearer to it. 

No, not exactly the Shadow Realm, but the shadows themselves. Lost somewhere in between the human realm and Zorc’s domain.

He gets to his feet and stares down at his body, the true one lost to the Ring over three thousand years ago, rather than the one borrowed, and stolen, from his host. There is pressure beneath his feet, indicative of a floor, even though he spins his head every which way and sees nothing at all.

There’s no light, but he can see himself. The body is his, but everything on it is stolen. The cloak, the jewels. He doesn’t try to find logic in a world of shadows.

He spins in a full circle, seeing nothing at all in the distance anywhere, he picks a random point and starts walking. 

He goes and goes and goes, and knowing that in the human realm it’s been twelve years, he suspects it was weeks or months of nothingness.

Stuck in his own thoughts. Remembering his family and home, his deal with Zorc made while too young to understand the repercussions of dealings with demons. Remembering, with grief and love all wrapped together, the time spent with his host. Those first years of anonymity, protecting him from the human monsters at every turn and fighting back the nightmares with pleasant dreams, and he recalls those last few weeks of bonding together in a way he’d never thought possible.

Ryou had been right. He’d had no chance of winning that game, and he’d helped build it anyway.

When loneliness begins to cause physical pains, a light comes to him.

He’ll swear, to his grave, that his mother is the one who guides him forward.

Maybe it was the Gods, since his people are meant to be at peace, but it suits him better to believe it’s his mother.

That’s what he tells his host.

She guided him through the darkness, out of the shadows and into a land of sun and sand.

-o-o-o-

His life three thousand years ago is clearer now, and he remembers his life since Ryou put on the Millennium Ring. It’s those three thousand years in the middle that seem to have mostly been forgotten in order to fit all the memories in a squishy human brain.

With his heart warm from nostalgia, he tells Ryou about his mother.

She was a single mother to a single child, in a time where family’s had as many children as possible, leaving him a child spoiled with love. Their village had struggled, starvation and dehydration very real problems and suffering had been commonplace, but there had been space for happiness too. Everyone had worked together to make ends meet, he’d learned everything everyone had to offer about thievery, from tomb robbing to sleight of hand, in order to take up the mantle himself one day in order to care for his people.

He’d had a good first few years of life.

Then one day it had all gone to shit.

That’s where he stops his retelling. Ryou takes up the reigns, asks more probing question about the people, what they did, how they lived, what they were like.

They talk until their voice are hoarse and their throats hurt. Dinner comes and goes, the sun slips beyond the horizon, the lamps are switched on to illuminate the room. They’re still seated too close, but their hands don’t wander, they keep their boundaries.

Seto, a few halls away, tucks himself under the covers and wonders if he should interrupt, or leave them to their reuniting. Would it be rude to intrude? Would Ryou be upset? Would it make him look distrustful?

Rather than go in person, he sends him a quick text to remind him to take his medicine; he receives a response within seconds that’s made up of a happy face and a heart. Ryou doesn’t come to the bedroom to take them in their en-suite bathroom, but he has a few spares around, and missing one day isn’t the end of the world anyway.

His absence from their bedroom causes some fleeting thoughts of concern, but if Ryou said there was a kiss, and just a kiss, and that nothing would happen, he trusts that. Ryou is a surprisingly good actor, he could lie his way out of any trouble, but he’s never given Seto reason to think he’d turn that on him. They’ve shared jokes about how good Ryou is at feigning ignorance, or pretending he’s innocent after a prank, and he’s commended him on successfully planning a surprise party for him when not even Mokuba could manage that.

His sleep is restless.

He has a very unfortunate dream about getting up for a meeting and his notes are all gibberish and everyone’s staring expectantly. They’re judging him and his floundering.

His heart is hammering in his chest when his eyes fly open. It gets worse when his hand reaches for the bed’s other regular occupant only to find a cold blanket.

Right. No, Ryou’s not kidnapped, just… somewhere else in the house.

With dread filling his lungs, he climbs out of bed. He tugs on his robe and makes his way to the living room. His phone says it’s three in the morning. With a consistent early morning wake up time, Ryou doesn’t stay up late much anymore. On special occasions, yes, and this isn’t surprising, necessarily, but he can’t help his unease.

From the hall he can see that the lamp is still on, the faint yellow glow dim in the otherwise dark room and pouring out softly through the doorway. He steps inside and releases a soft relieved sigh.

They’ve fallen asleep on the sofa, each of them with their heads on opposite armrests. Ryou’s on his side facing away from the back of sofa, and Bakura’s on his back, his legs tucked behind Ryou. Bakura’s slipped off the cloak and has it resting on their waists, sharing the warmth between them, but they’re otherwise clothed.

He hadn’t really thought that Ryou would… but doubts can sneak in at the barest hint of weakness, and he’d welcomed them in. He scolds himself for his own nonsense.

Seto rounds the coffee table to Ryou’s end of the sofa and gently lays a hand on his shoulder. He squeezes only tight enough to draw him from sleep.

Within a breath his heart rate jumps from nerves to adrenaline. Ryou sighs softly, waking up. The red cloak billows up in his sights. The sofa’s other occupant sits up abruptly and Seto leans forward, over Ryou, and thrusts his hand up to catch the one coming down at him, silver gleaming in the lamplight.

The knife stills. Seto stops midway, a couple inches from Bakura’s wrist.

“What’s-” Ryou tries to turn but Seto’s in his space, shielding him and blocking him in.

Bakura’s wild and frightened eyes meet Seto’s hard glare. The weapon is drawn back to his heaving chest.

“Sorry, I…”

Seto carefully moves enough for Ryou to sit up, but he keeps his eyes fixed on Bakura.

Ryou rubs Seto’s back, “It’s okay, you startled him, that’s all.”

“Where’d the knife come from?” Seto asks harshly.

“It’s mine. Hidden pocket in this,” he tugs the cloak with his free hand. He tosses the knife onto the table in an attempt to calm the upset host - the home, not the body, sort of host.

“Are you okay?” Ryou asks him, still rubbing his back.

“I’m okay considering I was almost stabbed,” he snarks.

“I’m sorry!” Bakura exclaims. “Old habits die hard and all that.”

Seto rubs his tired eyes and stands.

“Fine. Just… no more knives in the house.” He offers Ryou a hand to help him up, “I was coming to check in on you. You should come to bed. You’ll be sore if you spend the whole night here.”

“Already a bit late for that.” Ryou accepts the help and stretches out some of the kinks in his back. “Thanks. I must have fallen asleep while we were talking. Sorry about that,” he says to Bakura.

“Did you have Iori get a guest room ready for him?” Seto asks.

“Yeah, I did,” he says with a yawn. “Come on, off to bed for all of us.”

Bakura gets up and grabs the cloak, holding it close to his chest. He eyes the knife on the table for a moment, but decides against picking it back up. He follows Seto and Ryou down a few halls. Ryou stops them in front of a seemingly random door and sends him to bed, and the couple continues on to their own room further off.

He crawls into a bed pointlessly big and horribly cold.

He had Ryou for so many hours all to himself, and while talking it had almost felt like back then, but better now without the barricade of darkness between them. He could smile as he wanted, feel to the hidden depths of his heart. His former host started yawning, his eyelids got droopy, and his words strung together meaninglessly, and it brought him back to nights of video games, pouring over Monster World lore books, or sketching out future figurines.

Except tonight, he can’t join Ryou in his soul room to curl around him and steal his warmth. Tonight, Seto is the one who’ll be with Ryou. Bakura won’t have that chance again.

And it hurts, it makes it hard to breath, and no matter how often he says out loud to Ryou that he should go, do you want me to go?, he’s too selfish to walk away. If he leaves there’s no coming back, and he can’t bear the thought.

Friendship. That’s what Yugi, and Anzu, and the whole group would prattle on about all the time. The people of Kul Elna had all been family, blood relation or not, so he’s never had friends. He can learn, for Ryou. He’ll figure it out in order to be allowed to stay. He won’t give Seto a reason to kick him out, he'll keep his hands to himself, he’ll be good.

It’ll be worth it; it has to be.

Chapter Text

Fighting is all he’s ever known.

From birth he fought to survive, and to his death he fought for justice. His motivations have changed, but his actions have not. He fights with the strength of an animal backed in a corner and fuelled by the voice of his people. He has the right to exist, to live and love, and his people have the right to peace and vengeance. He has a right to the world that has done him so wrong, a dark God whispers in the ear of a child haunted by fire.

In death, what he assumes to be his final death, defeat drains him.

But there is no smothering a fighting spirit.

He gets up and he walks, aimless, directionless. And when the Gods offer him a path back to Ryou, he accepts it.

He fights; it’s all he knows. Physically, emotionally, mentally, he walks. Runs. The trials are difficult, but not impossible. His people are not with him as they once were, but he honours them in every action.

He tears his enemies to pieces, using every trick he knows and stooping to the lowest points. It’s no lower than the Gods would go, and there’s no punishment for outwitting and outsmarting the games he’s made to play. They all know he’s a cheat, and in here, it’s allowed.

But this isn’t a game with a manual. He doesn’t know how long this will last, how many obstacles he has to face. What is the final boss, if there is one.

Exhaustion weighs down his shoulders, blood is smeared beneath his nails and has dried in his hair, his breath is ragged and rough, and still one foot moves in front of the other until he stumbles upon a golden door.

The needlessly intricately designed knob is hot beneath his palm. He twists and pushes. Light pours out. His hands fly up to cover his eyes from the onslaught and the floor beneath his feet vanishes.

He falls for only a couple of seconds before he lands in a heap on solid ground.

Immediately he knows he feels better, as if he’s eaten a full meal, showered, and slept, all in an instant.

His hands pull free from the billowy cloak, and he pushes himself to his knees.

His destination sits before him in a desk chair, mirroring his shock.

Ryou.

His host, his soulmate, his better half.

As lovely as the day they parted. He’s lost the lankiness of boyhood, but his eyes still have that youthful glow to them. His hair’s gotten a little longer, the braid dangling over his shoulder nearly reaches his elbow, and he’s wearing a simple paint-stained t-shirt and jeans. There are signs to show the passage of time, but none of them register in this moment.

Ryou stands and tries to speak. Bakura rises to his feet and meets him in the middle. He grabs his face and kisses him.

A hesitant second passes where Ryou doesn’t move, but then… he does. His mouth responds, his hands clasp the red cloak and drag him closer. 

The shock melts into heat. They’re together again, finally. Bakura has his own body, his own hands to touch him with, his own body to press up against his. He slips his tongue past inviting lips and pushes him up against his desk. Ryou’s a bit taller than he remembers, and he has to tilt his head back to keep their lips locked.

He lifts him onto the desk, Ryou’s hand reaches back to shove off his supplies. His legs lock around Bakura’s waist and the friction has them moaning in tandem.

Finally! Finally he can touch him. Finally he can hear his voice with his own ears, speak his name with his own mouth, hold him with his own arms.

The touches in the soul room were real, but they didn’t have the same heat to them as done with real bodies. The pressure of skin on skin, the goosebumps that rise from the ghost of a touch. The way their saliva collects between their mouths and makes their lips shine.

He moves beyond his lips. He brushes over his jaw line and nips at his earlobe to get a breathy giggle. He starts mouthing along his neck, marking him with his lips rather than steel, for once. His fingers dig into his hips and holds him still as he grinds their growing erections together, still trapped in their clothes but both of them too impatient to undress.

“Bakura,” he moans. “Harder, ah! More!”

Ryou’s fingers curl in his hair and it hurts the way he likes. He loves those hands, one horribly scarred by him during a shadow game. He loves his long delicate fingers perfect for his artistic inclinations that had once so lovingly carved every inch of Bakura’s body into a figurine. He loves his face, his expressive eyes, the hair that needs conditioner or it becomes a nightmare, the scars he’d caused and the ones he’d healed, the softness of a body that loves deserts, the way his breath hitches, the way his legs are squeezing him almost tight enough to cut off circulation.

He loves him, and he says it.

He whispers it like a chant into his shoulder, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love y-ah!”

Ryou’s ecstasy triggers his own.

-o-o-o-

His eyes fly open. He wakes up sticky and panting.

The ceiling stares back at him, judging him with its silence. He extends his arms on both sides and finds nothing but cold blankets. He’s alone.

That dream had been how he’d expected to find Ryou. He should have been for the taking, they should be in bed together, naked and sweaty and marked from love making.

But no. He has nothing. The Gods have decided that’s all he’s worth.

-o-o-o-

“I think my marriage is in trouble.”

Mokuba doesn’t spit out his food, but it’s a close call. He carefully finishes chewing and swallows.

“Um. What?”

He’d deduced that there was something wrong with Seto, that’s why he brought his lunch into Seto’s office and forced the issue. He’s been more short-tempered than usual all morning, but his guess had been that he was annoyed from dealing with the new hire in marketing, not Ryou. His husband is never the issue.

Seto fiddles with his fork and moves a cherry tomato around rather than eat it. It takes him a second to gather his thoughts, but Mokuba’s used to that and waits him out. The fork is set down. Seto crosses his arms and explains.

“The person that used to live in Ryou’s necklace, the Millennium Ring, he came back and he’s in our house.”

“Okay… Why is he in your house? Isn’t he a murderer?” Mokuba bypasses the ‘coming back to life’ part, because there’s no sense to be found in that.

“He and Ryou are… friends.”

“Why did you say that so weird?”

“They used to be more than friends.”

“We are talking about the guy who tried to destroy the world, right?”

“Yes.”

Mokuba stares at him wordlessly.

“It’s complicated, but he’s no longer interested in destroying the world.” Seto does not add that he’s assuming that, rather than knowing it. 

“Okay, so I’m going to pretend I don’t know anything about any of that, and focus on you. You and Ryou have been together, what - ten years? Do you really think he’d cheat on you? Can’t say I ever got that vibe from him.”

“Nine years, four months,” Seto corrects, “and no, I’m not concerned about him being unfaithful.”

“Also, you didn’t really answer - why is he in your house? Ryou has a lot of friends and none of them are living in your house.”

“I hate to be repetitive, but it’s complicated. You know how Yugi was with that puzzle, Ryou and this guy are the same. Their relationship is more… profound than the average relationship," Seto explains tersely.

“But Yugi and Atem were friends, not lovers… but maybe they were, now that I think about it… Anyways. So Ryou wants to keep him around because…”

“It’s temporary. He doesn’t have identification and has nowhere to go. He’s staying with us until everything’s sorted.”

“There, that’s what I wanted to know. Ryou is helping his friend, who is also his ex, get back on his feet, eventually he’s going to move out, and you don’t think Ryou’s going to cheat. Seems all pretty straightforward to me. Obviously it’s a shitty situation, but sounds to me like your marriage is safe. What’s really bugging you about this?”

Seto goes back to poking around at his salad with his fork.

“If Bakura - that’s the name he’s going by - if he hadn’t died, Ryou and I would never have gotten together.”

“Seto,” Mokuba says with a gentle sigh, “you can’t think like that. You know you can’t start getting lost in the ‘what ifs’. Lives are made up of a thousand choices, you-”

“I know all that, Mokuba,” he cuts in. His tone is harsh, but his brother lets it slide. “But I know this for a fact. I only have Ryou because Bakura died, and… maybe Ryou will realize that too. And I have to ask myself, would it be better to let him go, or to have him walk away? I…”

His voice cracks. The hopelessness of his predicament shines in his eyes.

The question he doesn’t ask aloud - ‘which one of us would make him happier?’.

Mokuba takes a second to wipe his mouth and set aside his now empty lunch container, using it as an excuse to figure out what he wants to say. Once boxed up, he rests his arms on the desk and locks his gaze with Seto’s.

“I know if I tried to send you home now you’d make a fuss, so get the day done, and when you get home, talk to your husband," he stresses. "Ryou loves you, Seto. How much you two love each other makes people believe love exists, it’s that obvious, okay? Don’t wallow in your own misery imagining all the worst case scenarios; you need to talk this through with him. Since this guy means a lot to Ryou, if he needs to go, he can stay with me. I’ll help him if it helps you guys. Okay?”

Seto looks off to the side.

“Okay?” he repeats.

He sighs and nods, “I hear you.”

“Good. I’ll handle the two o’clock meeting with Shinji, because, no offence, you’re bitchy today, and I don’t have the energy to deal with him crying again this week. You go over the presentation deck for next week.” Mokuba grabs his things and stands. He rounds the desk and bends down to give him a hug from behind. “Talk to Ryou. Don’t make me call him.”

“Go away.”

“Love you, too.”

-o-o-o-

Ryou is having a fantastic day.

He gives Seto a sleepy farewell kiss when he’s off to work and stays in bed an extra couple of hours after being up so late the night prior. When he’s up and ready for the day, he brings some spare clothes to Bakura and they remain attached at the hip from that point onward.

There are some looks sent his way by the former spirit that speaks all the things not being spoken between them, but he ignores them. There’s nothing that needs to be said about their history, no sense rehashing the truth of this new relationship.

They start with a tour of the estate. Habit has him calling it a house but in truth it’s the Kaiba Estate, inherited from Gozaburo and childhood home of the two brothers. Most of the property remains impersonal, but there are a few rooms with their personal effects.

There’s Mokuba’s room, unchanged since he’d moved out and available to him on nights he doesn’t feel like driving home after dinner. There are a couple of guest rooms, one that Bakura is being lent, the staff quarters, a handful of bathrooms, storage closets, sitting rooms, mudrooms, powder rooms, Seto’s office, the library, and rooms that seem to exist simply to add size to the house.

One room, tucked in the far back of the property away from prying eyes, is locked. Ryou pauses in front of it and gives him a hard look.

“I know that eventually I’m going to be working or asleep and you’re going to start wandering the property without me, and I know you’re going to sneak in everywhere because that’s what you do, but this room is off limits. That’s a hard rule; you pick this lock and you’re gone. No second chances. Got it?”

“Is it a sexy room?” he asks with a flirty grin, but Ryou’s lips stay firmly pressed in a line.

“I’m not joking, Bakura.”

“Fine, fine, I pinky promise I won’t sneak into this room.” He raises his hands to show no crossed fingers.

Ryou’s expression brightens, as if he hadn’t been serious a moment ago, “Great! Let’s keep going. I want to show you the gardens.”

He can tell it’s a title, ‘The Gardens’, rather than simply referring to a space where flowers grow. It’s so pretentious. The show of high class in Japan is much different to what was found in Egypt three thousand years ago, there’s a lot less gold and jewels, and it’s easier for him to stomach, but it still makes him angry.

It’s much better than coming back from the dead to no shelter at all. He’d gotten used to Ryou’s lifestyle back when he was a teenager, his father supplying more than enough money on a monthly basis for Ryou to survive and pursue his hobbies freely, and he knows he can grow used to this disgusting display of wealth too.

But he doesn’t have to like it.

He begrudgingly agrees that the gardens are very lovely. There’s a koi pond, lavish and pointless, with a wooden bridge to cross it and rocks placed strategically to enclose the water. Flowers and fauna grow across multiple acres of land, well maintained and carefully cared for. Some of the stuff growing here is probably not local, or easy to keep alive, and it makes a colourful and vibrant display.

Now that they’re outside, they walk the entire way around the property to the main entrance, where a car is waiting for them.

Seto is efficient; Bakura gets his first set of vaccinations before he’s been alive (again) for twenty-four hours. His text to Ryou says if their guest gives them some plague from three thousand years ago he’s going to kill him. Judging by how easily he’s been eating, not a stomach cramp in sight, Ryou’s guessing that his body’s been updated to a modern day equivalent. He probably doesn’t even need shots, but it’s better to be safe.

He holds his hand through the ordeal, and it’s the most physical contact they’ve had all day.

Ryou’s been careful, more than he needs to be - he hugs his friends, he gives them casual touches without a second thought, but he can’t let himself fall into old habits with Bakura. That’s a slippery slope to bad decisions.

He fixes Bakura’s sour mood from the doctor’s visit with a burger and then a trip to a clothing store to fill up his wardrobe. He’s not much shorter than Ryou and fits pretty well in his clothes, but they don’t have the same style and he’s going to need his own stuff eventually. 

And having to roll up the hem of his jeans is a little insulting.

Ryou rolls his eyes when he tugs on a leather jacket, but his smile is amused. He can’t talk, he’s wearing a gamer t-shirt hidden beneath an unbuttoned checkered shirt. His sense of style hasn’t evolved, and Bakura briefly wonders why it wouldn’t have gotten better since being in a relationship with Seto, but then he remembers some of his more outlandish looks, and it all fits into place.

Losers, he thinks affectionately.

They make the drive home with a car full of bags containing everything he needs and more, including a cell phone, a train pass, and a wallet empty save for the yen Ryou hands over from his own wallet. In case he wants to wander the city, Ryou says.

He’s always been a wanderer, in both the distant and more recent past. That Ryou still knows him so well after twelve years makes his stomach flutter happily.

Ryou has said more than once that he’d been missed while he was gone, but it’s easier to believe when he sees it in the little things that he does.

“I have to finish up this commission, you can hang out with me in my studio or do your own thing. You’re probably fine at this point, but maybe stick to the house just in case you have a delayed reaction to the shots.”

“I’ll stick with you, if that’s cool.” He doesn’t admit that he wants to see Ryou’s work. He’d been incredibly talented as a teenager, he can only imagine the progress he’s made. He’d been in his studio so briefly yesterday that he hadn’t gotten a proper look at it.

“Perfect, follow me.”

Chapter Text

Ryou walks to his chair and Bakura stays frozen in the doorway.

He’d been very distracted yesterday, it’s not his fault for not taking any of this in before. But this is a room that screams ‘Ryou Bakura’. This is where his personality lives in this house. All those bland, boring rooms out there, even that gorgeous garden, is nothing compared to this.

“You can poke around if you want! You know how I get, so just keep yourself busy. It shouldn’t take too long.” Ryou tosses over his shoulder while gathering his things.

“Sure.”

The room itself had been a gift from Seto fairly early on in their relationship. Before he’d been asked to move in, even. At that time in their lives, both of them twenty years old, they’d had incredibly busy schedules. 

Seto was still learning how to delegate and had too many responsibilities on top of raising a teenage Mokuba. Ryou was juggling school, classes for a degree he hated and never ending homework, and trying to establish himself a proper clientele for his artwork in the hopes of making it a full-time job.  Plus their social lives, where they had to maintain friendships and their budding relationship.

They both understood that their time together would be limited for a while. It was unfortunate, but there are only twenty-four hours in a day.

Then one day Seto prepared the bare bones of this room; he installed various shelving units, added a desk and chair, and pressed up against one wall was a sofa, one perfect for someone to sit with a laptop.

He told him to make it home.

It was a declaration and an admission all in one. I love you. I miss you. It was Seto saying that he was ready to make time for him, even if it wasn’t the conventional way.

Ryou brought over all his art supplies and has been working from here ever since. 

At first, Seto was the one who sat on the sofa with his laptop and the two worked in silence together. Then it was for Mokuba. After Ryou had moved in, they’d grown much closer and Seto had been relieved to know that when he was at the office, his brother wasn’t alone at home. Since Mokuba had found his own place to live, that sofa has been left neglected.

Bakura doesn’t take a seat right away. He looks around the room and takes his time with every part of it.

He starts with the large cork board.

It’s cluttered with pictures and sketches of Ryou and his friends. And Seto, of course.

“You went to university?” he asks.

“Mhm. Got that business degree. It sucked and I have no need of it, but it’s done.”

There are two graduation pictures, one with the whole group of friends holding matching diplomas, and one where he’s the only one holding a diploma with Seto at his side. High school and university.

Ryou’s father had been insistent on him getting a ‘useful’ degree, and it seems he caved in to his demands. The last of his biological family is notably absent from the collage.

“You cut your hair.” He can’t tell when he’d done so, but his hair is varying lengths in some of the pictures, the shortest length shows that it had been cut above his ears at one point. “You once threatened to exorcise me if I so much as got you a trim.”

Ryou sets down his work and turns his seat to face him, judging that he should explain himself face to face. His hair has always been a big deal to him, and Bakura understands that better than anyone. Of all their arguments, and every way Bakura tried to stay in control of his host, the one thing Ryou properly put his foot down about was the threats to his hair.

“I did,” he confirms. “It was after Seto and I started dating.”

“Did he…?”

“Of course not. When I realized that I was in love with him, I… I had a breakdown," he admits with an embarrassed grimace. "I was still in love with you, and it felt like I was betraying you, and him, and sometimes I’d look in the mirror and still see you, and it all…” he clasps his hands together, “came to a head one night and I chopped it all off. I was not entirely sober at the time either, which didn’t help my decision making. I woke up and regretted it immediately and had a whole separate breakdown.”

He doesn’t share the intimate details. It was a moment of weakness that took a long time to heal from, and he's not ready to open the box on all that.

He’d woken and saw himself in the mirror and cried and cried for hours. It wasn’t about the hair, not really, but at the time that’s what he'd fixated on. In the dark of his bedroom, he'd texted Seto to break up with him. Seto hadn’t accepted it, it wasn’t Ryou to be scared of confrontation and do something like that over text; he’d arrived at his apartment in twenty minutes.

Seto had sat him down and fixed his hair, correcting the uneven parts. He’d cleaned up his mess from the night prior, he’d pushed him to take a shower and change clothes and freshen up. Aside from an initial greeting, they didn’t speak until Ryou was calm and had collected himself a good two hours later.

“My breakdown lead to a breakthrough in our relationship, so in the end it worked out. I had been so terrified of telling him about you and what we were, but that wasn’t good for us. Obviously, it wasn’t good for me. Once I told him about you, I was finally able to talk about all those years of my life without trying to hide things and make myself seem… normal. And that made him open up to me too. It sucked about my hair though, it was really embarrassing when I had to try and explain myself to our friends, but it turned out fine, no one made a big deal about it.”

“Did you ever tell them why you keep it long?”

“No. Seto knows, but it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Mm.” Ryou hums softly. “Satisfied? Can I get back to work?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Ryou turns back to his desk and Bakura turns back to the photographs.

He spots the one Ryou has been carting around for most of his life - the only Bakura family picture; a mother, a father, a son, and a daughter. Ryou’s decision to keep his hair long isn’t deep or complicated; his mother had struggled with growing out her hair and she had lived her love of fun hairstyles through Ryou, and he’s always carried that with him even after her passing.

He moves on.

The pictures are an eclectic array of events their group has partaken in, including bowling, paintball, and various parties and tournaments. Ryou and Yugi trapped under Hiroto’s arms as he squishes them to his sides with a bright grin. Ryou and Katsuya toasting with cans of soda. All of them circled around Anzu after a performance, judging by her outfit. Ryou sitting behind Marik on a motorcycle. Ryou and Seto at Mokuba’s graduation. 

His wedding.

They make a cute couple. Seto in a white suit, Ryou in black. Blue boutonnieres because they stay on brand. Their friends in suits and pink-tinged cheeks and arms wrapped around each other and smiling like this is the best day of all their lives.

Their lives - so many years can be seen here, spread out across coloured images. Yugi, Anzu, Katsuya, Hiroto… Seto. Mokuba. Even Mai, Ryuji, Shizuka, Marik, Ishizu, Rishid, and other people he can’t name, partners that have come and gone.

From teenagers to adults, some with spouses, one to have a child soon. Travels to America, Egypt, and places Bakura doesn’t recognize.

He has no idea how old he is currently; Ryou is twenty-eight and he must be in that range too. There are still so many years left to their lives. He missed a lot but a lot remains.

He can’t let the grief take over.

He spins photographs around on their pins, uncovering more things hidden beneath others. Not on purpose, the placement suggests Ryou tried to be able to see everything, but had to allow them to overlap eventually and didn’t have the heart to take anything down.

Warmth blooms and overtakes the coldness of envy and loss.

A sketch of the Millennium Ring. Another the first sketch of the figurine of his true self. There’s a wildness in the pencil-drawn eyes that is no longer the eyes he sees in the mirror. Time apart from the dark God has restored some semblance of sanity. Love has made him soft. That’s not a thought that bothers him like it once would have.

He moves on from the cork board. Aside from the desk holding the things that he’s using, a majority of the room is shelving lined with supplies. Pencils, markers, paint, carving knives, brushes, paper, canvases of different sizes… A couple shelves have finished products. A few favourites - his friends’ Monster World figures and new one’s made for Seto and Mokuba. Some diorama pieces. An unfinished Blue-Eyes White Dragon miniature that had a mishap of some sort with the wings and is sporting googly eyes, but Ryou must have loved too much to toss out.

Ryou’s White Mage stands next to the miniature of Bakura’s past - and current - self. He gives them both a tiny pat on the head.

It’s a little chaotic, and Bakura knows this can’t be everything. He must have commandeered a separate room for storage. Ryou doesn’t throw out any of his finished creations, no matter how old they may be.

He does a final spin to check out every corner of the room. The walls only have enough free space to hang up one painting, and Ryou’s chosen one of his own pieces. Bakura could recognize those brush strokes anywhere. He'd barely looked at it at first, but now that he steps in closer -

It’s… 

“Is that…?”

Ryou turned on his playlist a while ago, but he keeps the volume low and hears him over the instrumental music. He glances over and pauses.

“Oh. I’m so sorry, I didn’t think-”

“No, it’s… Why?”

Ryou spins his seat to better see him, muscles tense and ready to spring up to remove the painting if need be. Bakura doesn’t look away from it, drawn in by the very deliberate love poured into every detail.

“I wasn’t in the best place emotionally when I painted that, but… The truth shouldn’t be forgotten. I can’t make the world know… I tried, with Ishizu, but there’s no proof and…” he releases a defeated sigh, “but I’ll remember.”

He’s painted Kul Elna. Not in her heyday when she was vibrant and loud and lovely, their tiny home of a hundred people surviving through theft and determination. What Ryou has depicted is the aftermath, the morning after. The sun is rising on a town devoid of life. The body of the dead have been melted into gold, but their blood stains are splattered on ruined homes and dirt paths. The murderers are gone but the ghosts remain.

It’s hauntingly beautiful. Painful to the only survivor, but… his memory is not only his own anymore. Ryou made this. They live on.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

He finally turns to Ryou and they share a look of understanding. 

“I’ve been meaning to make a second. One that shows what it was like before. Would you be okay with that?”

“I’d like that.”

“Then you can consider it done.”

“You’ve gotten better. With all this stuff, I mean.” He gestures vaguely to the entire room.

“Thanks! I’ve been really lucky that I get to keep doing this. Seto was really supportive when I said I wanted to make a living off my work. The degree’s a good backup, but so far, I haven’t needed it.”

“Not like you really need to worry about money, right? You’re set for life.” Bakura drops down weightlessly on the sofa. His feet kick up on instinct and they hit the floor hard. There’s no coffee table, as there was in Ryou’s old apartment, or even in the living room they were in last night. He pretends it was on purpose and ignores the restrained grin on Ryou's lips.

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating,” Ryou says. “I obviously don’t have the same income as Seto, but I do my fair share-”

“I know, I know, sorry!” He holds up his hands defensively. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just… nevermind that. I’m happy you get to keep doing your art thing, I always thought you could make money off it. I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m the one who told you to start selling your shit…”

Understanding of his sudden bitter mood clicks. Ryou stops himself from rolling his eyes.

“Of course I never would have gotten here without your support either. So thank you for always being so sweet and supportive and for always saying such nice things about my art, and for telling me to pursue my dreams and to believe in myself, and-”

“Fuck off.”

Ryou laughs. He shakes his head and turns back to his desk, “Now shush! I have to finish this. I want to ship it tomorrow.”

Bakura grunts his assent. He lays down on the sofa. He tucks the throw pillow under his head and shuts his eyes for a late afternoon nap.

His breathing evens out shortly after and Ryou glances at him. A well-seasoned thief can sleep anywhere, anytime, or they risk getting no sleep at all.

He’s handsome, he isn’t immune to that. Physically, he and Seto are very different, from their skin tones to their heights to the shape of their noses, and Ryou finds them both ridiculously gorgeous. But they’re more similar than they’d accept, and when it crosses his mind, it only drives home how difficult this is going to be.

He won’t abandon Bakura. He never would have, but especially not now after the effort he’s made to reunite them.

But… Fuck, this is hard.

What he loves so much in his husband, he has always loved in Bakura. Their drive, their passion. How they adapted to horrible circumstances and carved their own paths. Their journeys have hurt many people, and they’ve made significantly destructive mistakes, but beneath the actions lay the heart of two boys so traumatized they don’t know how to be people. And yet they try and they overcome.

They surpass the expectations laid on them. Seto is a man who escaped the shackles and shadow of a dead father figure. Bakura, well… Bakura is alive again, all on his own willpower.

He gets back to work.

No sense dwelling on it.

-o-o-o-

Seto is home at exactly six o’clock. By habit he heads into the kitchen, though wonders if Ryou’s asked the chef to make dinner again today.

He hears their voices before he sees them. He steps through the threshold and finds Ryou stirring things in a pan on the stove, and their guest is seated at the island. He follows the path he always takes, not letting Bakura disrupt their routine.

He drops his briefcase on a stool at the island, a couple spots over from Bakura, and rounds it to stand at Ryou’s side. His hand rests on his lower back and he leans down to kiss his temple, but Ryou turns to offer his lips instead.

Bakura looks away.

“Hi, baby! Did you have a good day at work?” Ryou asks.

“It was alright.”

“Did that guy cry again?”

“No-” he shoots a glare at Bakura when he snickers. “No he did not. Mokuba handled it. Are you making curry?”

“Yup! Give me… thirty minutes. I started a little late.”

“Can this guy handle spice?” Seto says, nodding in Bakura’s direction.

“Hey!” Bakura says, clearly offended.

“He’ll be fine,” Ryou says. 

“You bet your ass I’ll be fine. None of that mild shit for me!”

Ryou doesn’t point out that the mouth accustomed to spice is his own, and not Bakura’s. Eh, he’ll probably be fine.

Ryou pulls out two cutting boards; he places one on the counter next to the stove and the other on the island in front of Bakura. He passes him a knife and a couple of freshly washed carrots.

“Cubed will be fine, thanks.”

“Are you sure we should trust him with a knife?” Seto asks pointedly.

Bakura glares and makes a few deliberately quick and precise cuts to the carrot.  He raises a smug brow and says, “I’m a man of many talents, Mr. Kaiba.”

“Do not lick that knife,” Ryou says sharply.

He stills with his tongue nearly touching the blade. He pouts and lowers the knife and uses his finger to wipe off the piece of carrot instead.

“You’re a walking health hazard,” Ryou says with a shake of his head, but he turns to his own cutting board with an amused smile. He pulls the pepper towards himself and gets to cutting it.

Seto’s leaning against a counter a bit further off to give Ryou room to manoeuvre. He and Bakura lock eyes.

There’s tension in that moment, and Bakura aims to break it. He flashes Seto a grin. He lifts the knife and mimes licking the entire length of the blade. The response is a nose scrunched in disgust, exactly as he’d expected. He goes one step further. He drops his mouth open and brings the knife towards the opening.

He doesn’t need to decide if he’s going for a blowjob mimicry, or if he’s just going to pretend to eat it, because Seto lifts his eyes skyward with an annoyed lilt to his pursed lips.

Ha. He wins. 

“Whatever you’re doing, stop it,” Ryou scolds without even looking at him.

“I didn’t do anything!” he defends. 

“I don’t hear any chopping, Kura. Do you hear chopping, Seto?”

“No, I do not.” Now Seto is the one who looks smug.

Bakura flips him off before moving on to his task of chopping up the carrots.

With the other two busy, Seto walks over to his briefcase with a purposeful pass of his hand along Ryou’s lower back as he goes by him. Bakura pretends not to notice the attempt to stake his claim; he doesn’t think Seto realizes he’s doing it because he doesn’t check to see if Bakura’s seen it.

“I have your ID ready.”

“Aren’t you efficient.”

“I always am.” Seto unzips his briefcase and tugs out a beige folder. He drops it on the island a safe distance from Bakura and his expanding mess.

“So what’d you go with for my name?”

“You’re officially Bakura El Naji, and if anyone asks, you were born in Tokyo, Japan. Making you a native was easier than sorting out a fake visa.”

“Hm. El Naji… That means something, doesn’t it? Hm… Oh.” Bakura spots the minuscule shift in Seto’s posture, indicating his discomfort. He’s not interested in offering any sort of compliment, and goes for lighthearted, “I thought you’d try to sneak in a swear word or something.”

“As if I’d ever do anything so childish.” Seto rolls his eyes.

There’s a barely suppressed laugh from Ryou’s direction.

“I got a call from Yugi today,” Seto says, not acknowledging Ryou’s reaction. “He wanted my opinion on something for his latest game, and there was no mention of a zombie pharaoh, so it looks like you’re the only one.”

“Lucky me.”

“You didn’t mention him to Yugi, did you?” Ryou asks.

“No, I didn’t. That problem is all yours.”

“Good, thanks. I’ll invite everyone out Saturday, and I’ll tell them about all this. After a drink or two.”

“Do I have to go?” Bakura asks.

“No.”

“Do I?”

“No.”

Ryou is glad that he has his back to them and they don’t see his grin. His boys, both so resistant to social gatherings. They both enjoy them, on occasion, and they just need a bit of prodding. His friends are going to need a heads up before coming face to face with Bakura, so he gets to sit this one out, but he’ll check in with Seto on the day of to see if he’s changed his mind.

Seto is already expecting it. They’ve done this dance before.

“Good. I’m going to wash up before dinner,” he says.

“Okay!"

Seto leaves without a look back.

Ryou adds the pepper to the simmering pan and turns to Bakura. He moves aside the dirty knife and grabs the cutting board. He says, aiming for nonchalant, “Bakura El Naji. It’s a nice name, I hope you like it.”

“It’ll do.”

Ryou gives him a hard look. He looks away.

“He’s trying, you know.”

“So am I.”

They stay in silence as Ryou finishes their dinner.

-o-o-o-

“How are you feeling today about him staying? I have some work stuff to finish tomorrow, but I thought I’d start helping him with job hunting this weekend. Once he has steady income I’ll give him the money he’d need for a deposit, I’ll use my savings for that, and we’ll start looking for an apartment for him. I don’t know how long it’ll take, giving him the deposit will make it a lot faster, but it’ll still be a couple of weeks at least. What do you say?”

Seto hears his brother’s voice echo in the back of his mind. Talk to Ryou.

He should. 

Hell, he should say he’s not okay with this and send Bakura on his way. He can put him up in a hotel and pretend he never came back to life.

Ryou is happy to have him back; he was happy before, but there’s a whole new light in his eyes now. Ryou has done so much for him throughout their relationship. He softened his rough edges, learned the intricacies of his soul so he could better love him - he urges him to love himself. He gives, always, without ever asking for anything. 

If he were to talk, what would he even say? 

I think you’re going to leave me for your past lover.

He needs more data. Maybe he’s looking too deeply into this, maybe it’ll all be fine. Ryou loves Bakura, that’s a fact. But twelve years later, maybe… Maybe it’s not ‘in’ love, anymore? Maybe… Maybe he’s trying to convince himself that talking isn’t the right call, when he knows it is.

Communication is always the right call. He and Ryou wouldn’t have gotten here without it.

“That sounds fine. Let me know if you need any help.”

Cold curls in his heart, spreading through his body with every breath.

They can have that talk another time.

Chapter Text

Friday is more relaxed. Ryou ships his finished products. He helps Bakura put all his new clothes away because they hadn’t bothered to do that yesterday. He completes a new coat of paint on one of his paintings and Bakura lays on the sofa and they chat on and off, reminiscent of the way they used to hang out.

Seto and Bakura exchange few words, and nothing more meaningful than pleasantries. It’ll take time, but Ryou hopes it won’t take too long. Or is it naive to have hope at all? Is it so wrong to want the two people he loves most in the world to be friends? Does it have to matter that one is a previous lover, and the other his husband?

The thoughts are tucked down, deeper, deeper, until hope floats back to the surface.

Saturday arrives. Ryou has arranged for drinks with his friends at one of their favourite bars.

“Last call. You sure you don’t want to come with me?”

“I’m sure. You have fun.”

Ryou bends down to kiss him, and Seto looks up from his laptop to accept it.

“Kura’s set up in the living room. He has twelve years of missed TV to keep him entertained, so he shouldn’t cause any trouble. Call me if anything happens.”

“I will.”

He straightens and goes to leave, but pauses by the door. He turns back around.

“Are you really sure? You haven’t skipped out in a while.”

“I don’t want to deal with… all that.”

“Okay, I get it. You’ll join us next time?”

“I will.”

“Great! Goodnight, Seto, love you!”

And he’s off, leaving Seto to his work.

Between him and Mokuba and his hard-learned skill of delegating, he doesn’t have much to do in terms of paperwork. They’re working on an acquisition deal, but all the research points are done and they have a string of meetings but Mokuba leads those; people prefer talking to the more personable Kaiba. The CEO tends to lend himself more towards the research and development side of their company, and in the comfort of his home there’s little he can do for that.

Ryou has asked him to keep his projects at the office, because when it comes to creating tech he can get lost in that for hours on end. Taking home his laptop is Ryou approved - he’s always happy to be pulled away from statistics and payroll reviews. He’s good at analytics, but it’s the lesser part of the job. Much like he can do his own taxes, but he’d rather pay someone to do the bulk of it and only gives it a review once it’s done.

Which is why he’s staring at his screen and wishing he didn’t feel trapped in his office.

Saturday evenings and Sundays are his free time. Those are the hours dedicated to Ryou and on occasion their friends - he has accepted that they’re all friends when they were working on their wedding guest list and he’d caught himself by surprise when he’d actually wanted them to attend.

He could call up Mokuba, or even go to his place, but his brother will question his motives, and he can’t get into that.

They have other sitting rooms, but none of them have TVs. They only have one TV which is being used by the person he’s avoiding. How did this happen? It has never crossed his mind -  they’ve never needed a second one, but he could… A website is pulled up and he’s halfway through typing in the word ‘television’ when he realizes Ryou’s going to put two and two together and want to talk about why he’s decided they need a second one.

He could go to the office and keep working on the VR headset.

But then he’d have to make sure he gets back home before Ryou does, because, again, he’ll want to know why.

Would it be so bad for him to know he’s not interested in being near Bakura?

But - Bakura isn’t going away. Even when he moves out, sooner than later hopefully, he and Ryou are going to be friends. They should get along, but there’s no reason it needs to be now.

Why is there no study on this? ‘What to do when your husband’s ex comes back from the dead, and that ex is also his soulmate?’ does not bring up any results.

It does lead him down a rabbit hole of stories where partners go back to their exes, and he tries desperately not to read into every single word Ryou has spoken to him since Bakura’s return, but…

A knock drags him out of his musings.

“Come in,” he says instinctively.

Bakura walks in, all false bravado and a grin to hide the discomfort. Seto doesn’t bother with a mask and leaves his glare in place.

“Hey, Kaiba,” Bakura greets pleasantly.

“What do you want?” Seto shoots back.

“Not a fan of small talk?”

Bakura scans the room and its contents. The walls on the left and right are floor to ceiling bookcases, and the back wall is mostly comprised of a large window. Seto’s desk is in front of it, lit by the sun and mood as the hours pass.

Seto doesn’t answer the question he assumes is rhetorical.

“Oh, I recognize this.” Bakura strides to the corner of the desk and picks up a statue of a Blue-Eyes White Dragon. He’s careful, but Seto’s hands tense over his keyboard. “Ryou made this, right? He has one like it in his studio, but that one’s obviously the reject. This one looks awesome.”

“It was for our fifth anniversary. Now put it down before you break it.”

Bakura rolls his eyes, but does set it down. “I know how to handle his figurines, you know. Just ‘cause I’m hot doesn’t make me stupid.”

Seto scowls and repeats, “What do you want?”

“Why don’t you have a second chair in here?” Bakura asks, still looking around for something that doesn’t exist.

“No one else comes in here.”

“Not even Ryou? He has that sofa in his studio, why don’t you have one?”

“He doesn’t come in here. He says it gives him bad vibes.” The love he has for his husband keeps the derision out of his voice.

“Did someone die in here?”

“No; it’s because this was Gozaburo’s office.”

“Who’s  - that’s dear ol’ dad?”

“Stepfather.”

“Hm. Makes sense. A guy like that would drench his regular haunting grounds in negative energy. Ryou’s pretty sensitive to that sort of thing. I’d blame it on being possessed for so long, but the kid was weird before I ever got to him. Anyway - I’m here because I want to talk to you, and it’s weird if I’m standing so…” Another cursory glance around the room. He shrugs and stands in front of the desk and leans forward on it, resting his arms across the surface and using them to support himself. It’s somewhere between standing and seated height, and very annoying.

“There’s nothing for us to talk about.”

“We both know that’s not true.” Bakura reaches forward and pushes down his laptop screen. Seto moves his hands out of the way and allows it. “Let’s get straight to it. We both love Ryou.”

Seto crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, putting as much distance between them as he can that doesn’t involve up and leaving the room entirely, which he is considering.

“But he married you. And yeah, this really fucking sucks for me, I’m not gonna lie about that, but you obviously make him happy, and that matters more than how I feel about it. I also get that me being here sucks for you, but I’ll be honest, I don’t really care. Ryou’s always going to be special to me, we’re always going to be connected, and maybe we can’t fuck anymore, but I’m still going to be around. I’m not walking away. I didn’t make it all this way to walk away. So you’re going to have to get used to seeing this face.”

“I’m aware.”

“Cool. Then you can call off the hitman. It’s a waste of money anyway, I’m like a cockroach, I don’t stay dead.”

“You think I hired a hitman?” Seto’s brow rises in disbelief.

“Are you saying you didn’t?”

“… I did not hire a hitman,” Seto says dryly.

“Huh. I guess you have changed.”

“If you died this soon after coming back Ryou would be suspicious.”

Bakura narrows his eyes at him, but he catches the tick in his lips of an aborted grin. He’s joking. Hopefully. Maybe.

“Can we agree to play nice? For Ryou’s sake?”

“I’ve already made that promise to Ryou.”

“Oh. Well… good. Then get off your ass and come watch TV with me.”

“Letting you live in my house is as nice as I’m willing to be. Now get out of my office.” Seto dismisses him.

Bakura purses his lips and looks like he wants to push it, but Seto reopens his laptop and he grits his teeth and accepts the dismissal. He leaves the office and doesn’t close the door on his way out. Seto assumes it’s to be annoying.

He gets up and closes it.

It’s only been three days, he needs more time to mentally deal with all of this. He just… can’t, right now. His mind is stuck on the negatives, replaying the worst case scenarios over and over, a habit he’s never overcome, though usually Ryou’s his go-to support to break him from that cycle. This time, he has to hope it’ll pass on its own.

There are good aspects to this - he and Ryou both have such limited social circles, the only family they have is Mokuba, and having another person who means so much to Ryou can only be a good thing. Someone he can hang out with that gets him, someone who knows his history, someone who loves him unconditionally. There’s good here. He’ll need time to dig beyond the mountains of cons his brain’s put together for him.

He opens the coding for their latest game and reads it to pass the time. 

He forces himself to answer Yugi’s text about missing his presence at their get together with a promise to be there next time.

He ignores his follow up text an hour or so later when he asks how he’s doing with Bakura’s arrival.

He can’t - he just can’t.

-o-o-o-

Ryou’s home early enough for a night out with friends, somewhere around ten at night, but their home is quiet. He checks the living room; it’s empty and the TV’s been turned off. He checks Seto’s office and is startled to find that empty too. Everyone’s gone to bed, it looks like.

He pauses at Bakura’s door, but doesn’t knock or enter. He can’t decide if it would be weird or not to check up on him. He has a phone and even texted Ryou a couple of times while he was watching TV to comment on some things, he’d have said if there were any issues. He walks away.

He enters their bedroom and the lamp on his side of the bed is on. Seto’s in bed, but not asleep. Their eyes meet when he steps into the room and they share a smile.

“Hey, baby,” Ryou says softly. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I just got to bed myself. I thought you’d be out a bit longer.”

Ryou starts his bedtime routine and talks at the same time, “Katsuya got back from America this morning and was snoozing in his drink by seven, but you know how stubborn he is. He wanted to fight the jet lag and stay up as long as he could. Yugi had to drag him to the car, I have no idea how he’s going to get him into the house.”

“He can sleep in the car, it’ll serve him right.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t as stubborn when you come back from a business trip. How many times have I caught you passed out in your office?”

“I don’t pass out. I choose to take a nap.”

“Uh-huh. Hiroto couldn’t stay out late either. Megumi hasn’t been feeling great this week, so he wanted to get home as soon as possible. It’s unfortunate she’s having such a rough pregnancy, I hope it starts getting better soon.”

Seto hums in agreement, following the conversation but not needing to contribute to it.

“Everyone’s doing good though. Katsuya was a bit bummed at his second place ranking, but he’ll be chipper again by next week - and don’t you dare say anything about his deck again, you know that it actually upsets him.”

Another hum.

“Good. One sec, going to brush my teeth.”

He takes a couple of minutes in the bathroom and exits ready for bed. He turns off his lamp and slides in under the covers up to Seto’s side. They kiss, and Ryou pulls back to finish telling him about his night.

“It was tough telling them about Bakura. I know Yugi and Katsuya are happy together, but I still feel a bit bad that Atem didn’t come back. I think they were a little upset too, though no one said anything.”

“They’ll get over it,” Seto assures.

“I know. They know Atem’s where he’s supposed to be. It’s just unfortunate is all.”

“How did they take the news?”

Ryou shrugs and even in the dark Seto can see his uncertainty, “I think you should expect a couple calls tomorrow. They were a little less understanding than I thought they’d be. It’s my fault for not telling them the whole story, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell them everything. They might need you to reassure them that I’m not possessed again.”

“The fact they’re not out for blood right now is a good sign.”

“That’s true. By the end of the night they were mostly okay with it, but it’s hard to know what they’re really thinking. We talked about the stuff that happened back then, and I did give them more details about everything, I just didn’t go into details about my relationship with him. If they do call you-”

“I’ll say you were friends.”

“Thanks.”

“Though I can’t make any promises about you not being possessed. You did bring home that creepy music box the other day.”

Ryou laughs, “I already refurbished and sold it; there are no haunted music boxes in our house, I promise.”

“That’s what someone possessed by a creepy music box would say.”

“It wasn’t even creepy! After you fixed the broken mechanism, it played a very normal sounding lullaby.”

“I still think you should have given it to Jonouchi.”

“He doesn’t open anything from me anymore.”

Seto chuckles, reminiscing on the last time he’d opened a gift from Ryou. The jack in the box had scared him senseless; it had been a lovely follow up to making him watch a horror movie with a killer clown only a few days prior. Ryou finds terrorizing Katsuya to be hilarious, and Seto probably benefits from it the most. He gets to admire his husband’s creativity and dark humour from a distance while taking joy in Katsuya’s torment.

“I’m sure you’ll think of a new way to scare him.”

“I’m working on it.”

Ryou kisses him and he melts into it. Their limbs wrap around each other, their bodies meld together with familiarity. He moves his lips with practiced ease. Their touches are lazy and soft, drawing and sharing comfort and warmth. A hand slips under the covers, and Seto grabs it before it can reach its destination.

“I’m too tired tonight.”

“Okay,” Ryou assents with a smile.

He gives him a final peck on the lips and tucks in for sleep.

It’s not the first time he’s refused sex because he’s too tired, Ryou’s always understanding about it, but it is the first time he’s used it as an excuse. While he could have said he’s not in the mood, that’s very rarely an issue for him and Ryou might start asking questions. It’s not a big lie, but it’s still a lie.

It weighs heavy in his chest, and he’s awake far after Ryou’s breathing has evened from sleep.

-o-o-o-

He does, in fact, get calls from several of their friends the next day. Ignoring them will only make it worse, so he answers and keeps the conversations brief.

Ryou’s definitely not possessed, Bakura’s annoying but not evil, and everything’s fine.

He’s monitoring the situation, and everything is perfectly fine.

Somehow they’re convinced, and though still somewhat concerned, they trust Seto has Ryou’s best interest at heart. If he says it’s fine, then it must be fine.

Chapter Text

“We’re going to play tomorrow. Make sure you’re home on time.” Ryou gives him a hard kiss. “Also, dinner’s ready.”

There’s no further discussion on the topic. Not during the rest of the evening up until he’s home again the next day. That’s the way they’ve done things for a while; it gives Seto enough time to mentally prepare himself, but not so much time that he’ll start to overthink everything.

Ryou runs the game, and Seto knows how to play along.

In the week and a half that Bakura’s been in their home, things have been tense. Seto’s been tense; Ryou’s been having a great time of it.

Seto’s been staying at the office later and has avoided talking to Mokuba, or anyone, more than necessary. Ryou and Bakura are hardly ever more than two steps apart and his nerves are fried. He’s not surprised by the play date, Ryou always knows when he’s due, but the ‘overthinking’ part has already taken root.

Ryou spends some time the next day getting things ready. They can only do this sort of things when Seto has no work the next day; they learned that the hard way - it resulted in the one and only time Seto has called out from work, and Mokuba had truly believed his brother was dying. Ryou had wished he was the one who was dead so he didn’t have to try and calm down a frantic little brother without telling him he’d physically exhausted the older brother. Not. Fun.

He settles Bakura in front of the TV, like an oversized toddler, and flits about the house. He grabs some water bottles, spare bedding, some snacks, and small essentials and organizes everything in their special room. He already has a plan for the night and eagerly awaits his return from work.

They’ve been in a relationship for nearly a decade, but it took years and years to get to this point. Exploring intimacy and pushing boundaries has been like pulling teeth with Seto; he never outright denied him, he’d been hesitantly open to his ideas, but anything too far had him shutting down instantly with no hope of restoring the mood until days or weeks later. Balancing his headspace is like teetering on a tightrope with no net. Ryou’s an expert now, he knows the buttons, the touches, the words, every little thing that gets him across that rope without falling over.

And how wonderful it is to make it across that gap.

“Go get ready and wait for me; it’s the usual tonight. I’ll be there in twenty.” Seto comes home exactly on time, and Ryou gives his directive with a gentle kiss.

Seto nods and departs, familiar with the routine.

Ryou pops into the living room for a final quick chat with Bakura, who is in the process of catching up on all of Ryou’s recommended horror movies that came out in the last twelve years.

“Ooh this one’s great! You’ll love it. Wonderfully gory.”

“Sweet. Where’s tall, dark, and broody?”

“Date night, so you’re not going to see either of us until tomorrow. No wandering tonight, alright? I don’t want to have to worry about you. Just sit tight, someone will bring you dinner soon, and go straight to your room when you’re ready for bed.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“No snooping around the house either. I mean it.”

“I’m a grown man, Ryou, I know how to behave.” Bakura rolls his eyes, but doesn’t tear them away from the screen. Not like these movies have a lot of plot, but he doesn’t want to miss anything and the remote is too far for him to pause it.

“Then you’ll prove it by being respectful towards us and our home.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be good. Try to get that stick out of his ass, the guy’s wound up tighter than a pissed off rattlesnake.”

“If only someone would learn not to poke the rattlesnake,” Ryou says pointedly.

“Shoo! Can’t you see I’m watching a movie here?”

Ryou shakes his head with a sigh, “Goodnight.”

“Later.”

He retreats from the living room. He spends the remainder of his twenty minutes in their bedroom getting ready. 

They’ve amassed a sizable collection of fun outfits, and he opts for something sexy but cozy with form-fitting black yoga pants, easy to move in and a great way to show off the assets, and a black sheer top. He brushes his hair and ties it up in a high pony, and he forgoes shoes and stays barefoot, all in the name of comfort. He pokes around his fairly minimal pile of makeup and decides against applying anything. There are nights for the heels and glam, but that’s not tonight.

He gives himself a final once over and, pleased with the results, leaves the bedroom. He walks to the quietest corner of the house until he stops in front of the only locked room, the only one in the home the staff is not allowed into.

His hands are steady as they tug the key from his pocket, but his stomach is ablaze with excitement. These nights are incredibly fun, and even though this one’s a bit weightier than they usually are, he still intends to make it as pleasurable as ever.

The lock clicks and he opens the door. On instinct, he shuts and locks it behind him.

Seto’s kneeling on the plush rug in the center of the room, only a short ways in front of the door. The ‘usual’ means he’s meant to be waiting naked, but that’s not the case now. He’s changed from his work clothes to a pair of sweats and a sweater zipped up halfway, clothes they keep in this room for the morning after.

He zeroes in on it immediately; this isn’t Seto being bratty, this is something else altogether. Seto has his hands clenched into fists in his lap and he’s staring at the rug. He doesn’t look up as Ryou approaches and kneels in front of him.

He cradles his face and lifts it. Seto’s eyes dart to the side to keep avoiding his gaze.

“What is it, my darling? Why aren’t you naked?” He’s careful to keep his tone gentle. The situation is precarious; Seto is likely to spook if pushed too hard, and that would ruin the entire night.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m not angry. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I started, but… I thought he might walk in.”

“Mm. I see.”

That’s not surprising. Ryou wouldn’t call it a fear, exactly, but Seto’s need for privacy is stronger than most’s - he never changed in front of people at school, exempting himself from gym class, and has refused to change in front of anyone. Ryou hasn’t figured out yet where this stems from, if anywhere, but has been very understanding of it, even though it caused significant delay in their first forays into physical intimacy.

If he thought Bakura might walk in, and Ryou has given Seto enough details about his thief skills for him to know a locked door is no obstacle, he wouldn’t be able to get the thought out of his head on his own.

“Thank you for telling me.” He trails his hands down his arms until he reaches his fists. He massages his fingers until the tension fades and they fall open. He lays their palms together. “You saw me lock the door, right?”

Seto nods.

“And I spoke to him, he won’t come anywhere near this room. I told him it was a date night, and he’ll respect our privacy. I know you don’t know him well, but I do, and I know he’ll do as I asked. Can you trust me on that?”

A heavy breath and another nod.

“Thank you. Look at me, please.”

The silence stretches as Seto’s mind spins in circles, but Ryou waits. Eventually, his gaze shifts forward. Ryou smiles, and Seto’s expression softens.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Seto says, still no more than a whisper.

“I know it’s been a tough week, and I’d still like to take care of you. Will you let me?”

Seto gives a hesitant nod, “Yes.”

“You know what to say if you want to stop, or if you want to move this to our room we can do that too.”

“I know.”

“Good boy.” He leans forward and gives him a peck that’s over before Seto can lean into it. His cheeks have already become a dusty pink just from the pet name - it’s a good start. “Stay here.”

Ryou stands and goes to the wardrobe in the back corner. There’s a lot of storage in the room, neither of them likes having their toys out in the open, but this particular closet is for the cozy stuff. It’s where Seto would have pulled out what he’s currently wearing. He grabs a specific piece and moves into Seto’s line of sight.

Seto smiles, fondly exasperated.

“Take off the sweater. We’re keeping you extra comfy today, and this has a softer lining. And it makes you look adorable.”

He’d had this hoodie custom made for his dragon obsessed husband a couple of years ago. He tends to prefer his Blue-Eyes White Dragon merch to be on the edgy side, but this piece is to be worn at home and is meant for comfort. Also to make him look cute. The material itself is the same blue as the dragon, the hood has the eyes on the top and fangs around the face opening, and the tail is on the back in the shape of a heart. Most importantly, the entire inner lining is the softest material Ryou could find.

“If you say so.” He tosses aside the sweater and lifts his arms for Ryou to slip the hoodie onto him.

“There you go, you look so handsome!" He sits behind him. He wraps his arms around his stomach and tucks his face into the back of his neck. At the end of a workday and a quick shower, his cologne has mostly faded, but this close he still catches the barest hint of it, and a pleased tingle runs down his spine.

Seto’s hands cover his. They remain seated there for a moment, enjoying the touch and moment of peace.

Once he feels that Seto’s relaxed and put Bakura out of his mind, he kisses the back of his neck and stands. He holds his hand out for him.

“Come on. I found something fun for us to read tonight.”

Seto takes his hand and follows him to the couch. It’s a leather loveseat - easiest for cleaning. Ryou sits down and drops a thick cushion next to his feet. Seto kneels in his designated spot. He leans his upper half along Ryou’s leg, and his cheek rests on his thigh in the cradle of his arms.

Ryou picks up the tablet from the end table where he’d left it within reach with a tab already open and waiting for them. He turns it on and begins reading.

His free hand runs through Seto’s hair, and the two settle into a familiar calmness.

After this, the night will go however he dictates; anything that’s entirely new he and Seto talk about in advance, but otherwise, which activities they’ll go with are a surprise to Seto. If he knows ahead of time, or if they fall into obvious patterns, it leaves room for his mind to wander - he needs to be caught off guard at every step to keep his thoughts in this room.

But all their play dates start the same - with a spicy story.

It’s the easiest and most efficient way to get Seto to decompress. All the business talk he’d heard that day gets pushed aside to make space for every word Ryou reads aloud. Shareholders and business partners and the never ending jabbering fades into nothingness, until the only voice left is Ryou’s.

The nature of the story helps, too, though oftentimes they’re ridiculous. Sometimes Ryou purposefully finds the most absurd story just to make him laugh.

Today he’s being regaled with the tale of a big buff fireman who saved a cat from a fire, and the tiny twink veterinarian who helped care for it. While there’s a side plot about who’s going to adopt the cat, Ryou fast-forwarded to the part where they’re fucking in the fire truck. There’s some questionable things happening with some of the equipment, and there’s the matter of workplace ethics, but…

However silly, it always works.

He puts him and Ryou in the characters’ shoes. He’d be the fireman, of course, brave and strong and willing to put his life on the line. Ryou would be the cute veterinarian who loves even the wildest of creatures and has a heart of gold. Ryou has, in the past, convinced him to fool around in his office, and much like the vet does with the fireman, he would convince Seto to fuck in a fire truck.

Heat pools in his stomach as their actions are described with the most intimate details. Ryou’s fingers in his hair calm him and keep him present, and his body slowly loses tension as the minutes go by.

Ryou reads until the characters have been sated, then sets aside the tablet. For a silent moment he keeps petting Seto’s hair.

Seto has fallen asleep here on a couple of occasions, where his libido couldn’t quite beat out his fatigue. Right now he’s feeling lazy, but not tired. He’s equally excited and content, and if this is all they did for the entire night he’d be happy with that, but Ryou has more to offer.

Ryou shifts above him and a light tug on his hair pulls him away from his lap, though he leaves his arms on him. Ryou sets down a small plate of assorted fruits next to his thigh.

He holds an apple slice to his lips and Seto parts them to accept it. It’s fresh and juicy and knowing that Ryou had taken the time to prepare it for him makes it even sweeter.

He always has an early dinner when they have these nights, but Ryou always insists on a bit of snacking and a lot of water. He’s diligent in Seto’s care, more than Seto would ever be for himself, and that’s why Ryou’s the one in charge here.

He eats what he’s given and drinks when Ryou puts the water bottle to his lips. The love in the offerings is evident, like in everything Ryou does for him, and his arousal is peaked but his reciprocal love pulses more deeply in his veins.

His mouth opens for a berry. Ryou sets it on his tongue, but doesn’t remove his finger. Seto keeps his lips parted, waiting.

Their eyes meet. Ryou’s observing him and not showing anything on a face that’s usually expressive.

His finger presses down until the berry pops and the juices flow down his throat. Ryou drags his finger off his tongue, wiping it clean in the process, and reaches down for another one.

Seto’s heart races with anticipation. He wants more than just the barest hint of his skin on his tongue. He’s ready now to get going. But he’s not allowed to say so.

“Look at you, my handsome pet.” Another berry is popped in his mouth. “You’re getting eager, aren’t you? Hm. What am I going to do with you?”

The fruit is gone and the plate is set aside. Ryou leans forward and runs his tongue along his bottom lip, licking away the bit of juice that escaped.

“You can keep your clothes on, but I already got this out for us, so you’re going to wear it tonight too.” Ryou reaches once more over the side of the couch to their end table and his hand reappears holding a collar.

It’s a bright blue, a match to the hoodie he’s wearing, and the inside is fully lined with the softest material. There’s a tag on it, the front has his name and the back says ‘property of Ryou’.

His childhood trauma has made certain things difficult in their sex life, some things they’ve overcome and some have been shelved permanently, but this is one thing he’s grown to love and which makes a frequent appearance on these nights. The fear that such an item had once roused in him is overshadowed by the pride he feels in Ryou’s ownership and the deep sense of rightness in belonging to him.

It’s clasped around his neck and his next exhale is shaky with exhilaration. His fingers touch the edge of the tag with the same reverence he would use for his deck.

“There you go; so beautiful.” Ryou leans back, his eyes are warm but his expression remains one of calm indifference. “I’m going to be taking very good care of you tonight, so you’re going to take care of me first. We wouldn’t want me getting distracted, hm? What do you say, my sweet pet?”

“Yes, master,” he whispers hotly.

“So needy. Come here.” Ryou spreads his legs and pats the couch between them. 

Seto moves the cushion to the floor between his feet and kneels on it once more. He stares up at Ryou expectantly. He lifts his hips and shimmies out of his pants and kicks them off, leaving his lower half bare. He undoes a couple of the buttons on his shirt, but keeps it on; the material feels nice on his skin.

“Use your mouth sweetheart - just your mouth, and I’m not going to help. I’m only going to get to you when you’re done with me, so I’d try real hard if I were you.”

Seto clasps his hands behind his back, the best way to ensure he keeps them to himself, and leans forward. Ryou’s arms splay out across the back of the couch, and he uses his acting skills to keep his own desires in check. They’re both already slightly aroused by the reading and the anticipation, and Seto goes in determined.

He’s generous with saliva to ease the glide and takes him in to the base, his nose pressing snug up against his crotch and the tip just reaching his throat. He bobs slowly, at first, until he’s fully erect and leaking in his mouth. How far they’ve come from the shy unsure touches of their early days; now Seto knows exactly how to work his lips and tongue to bring Ryou over the edge in the quickest way possible.

He’s not at the best angle to stare up at Ryou while he does this, and he closes his eyes and savours the taste and feel of him instead. The muscles in his legs grow taut on either side of Seto and the pleased noises from above drive him forward. He sucks harder and moves faster, his own body thrumming with pleasure.

His knees drop open to relieve some of the pressure on his neglected erection.

“Fuck, look at you, pet,” Ryou breathes out. “You’re so gorgeous with your mouth full. This is a much better use for it than yelling at morons, isn’t it, darling? If only I could keep you here forever, I’d keep you stuffed full all the time. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? My needy boy.” His words are cut when his breath hitches in his throat at a particular flick of his tongue. “I’m almost there, I want you to swallow every drop. Do that for me, pet.”

Seto hums his assent around his cock and almost immediately Ryou is cumming in his mouth. He obediently swallows all of it, not so much as a drop escaping past his lips. He pulls off when he’s softened and looks at him for validation.

A finger traces the bow of his lips.

“Very good, thank you, pet.” Ryou’s cheeks are flushed with exertion and his smile is warm and content, the sight of him makes Seto’s stomach churn with delight. He did what Ryou wanted, he was good.

That usually leads to a reward.

Ryou grabs him by the hair and draws him forward, and he meets him halfway. He licks into his mouth, tasting himself along his tongue, and when he pulls back he wipes away the trail of saliva that connects their lips. His heated gaze meets Seto’s.

“If only you were always this well behaved,” he whispers, “but I shouldn’t get greedy. I think I promised you something, didn’t I?”

“Yes, master.”

“Up.” His finger taps under his chin and Seto gets to his feet.

Ryou tugs back on his pants to make himself look a bit more put together after the lovely orgasm that he hasn’t fully recovered from yet.

He presses up against Seto, loops his finger in the metal ring that connects his collar to the tag, and tugs him down for a kiss. This one’s not as messy as the last, and his tongue stays in his own mouth this time. Once parted, he uses his hold on him to guide him next to the bed where he’s prepared something for Seto.

It’s a chair that will help him get into the exact position Ryou’s wants him in. Seto swallows thickly when he sees it and excitement flutters in his chest.

“Let’s get you strapped in. Keep the clothes on, but let me know if you get too hot.”

Seto nods. The room’s kept cool and he should be fine despite the layers.

He climbs onto the oddly shaped piece of furniture and waits for Ryou to make the round to tie him in. His front is pressed along a somewhat tilted leather lined board, the top part has a firm pillow for him to rest his head on and the bottom part ends at his waist, leaving his lower half exposed. His arms and knees come down below the board onto separate sections, and he’s left leaning forward but with his weight well distributed to keep him comfortable over a long period of time.

He lays his cheek on the pillow and his muscles relax with each click. His limbs are locked in place and hard earned trust has him wanting it rather than fearing it.

“Good boy,” Ryou praises when he’s finished. He kisses the back of his neck and along the side of his cheek, everywhere that he can reach. “How do you feel about complete surprises tonight?”

“Yes, master.”

“I thought you’d see it my way.” Ryou steps away for a brief moment and returns with a blindfold. He holds it up to his line of sight and only once he nods does Ryou slip it on. The soft material covers his eyes and the strap is the perfect length to hold it in place without being too tight. “You make such a pretty sight like this, you know. How do I ever let you leave this room?”

Lips graze the spot just behind his ear and warmth blooms from the point of contact.

His pants are lowered to his knees, his ass and groin fully exposed. The contrast from the heat of his clothes to the cool air against his sensitive bare skin makes his nerves prickle with pleasure.

Ryou draws back and gives him a once over. He’s completely at Ryou’s mercy, and his body’s trembling with anticipation. Perfect.

He’d prepared a small bin ahead of time and puts it on the nearest shelf for easy access. He lines up all the different toys in the order he intends to use them. He’d been a bit too ambitious and there’s more than they’ll get through, the ones he expects to be extra are left in the bin.

He starts with a feather, easing him into things. With his clothes on there’s less skin for him to work with, but he’s undeterred. He flutters it over his hands, spotting the slight amused smile.

That won’t last long.

He passes it along his knuckles and the back of his hand, flicks his ear and tickles his nose. He moves to the lower end of the chair and does the same on his feet. His legs twitch at the touch at the bottom of his foot, but, unfortunately, he’s not particularly ticklish and that’s the most Ryou can get out of him this way. He gives a final pass over his balls and steadily hardening length. It’s an impressive erection, but it won’t be getting a lot of attention tonight.

He grabs the next item; lube.

He pushes in one finger and works it in and out. The lube drips down his inner thighs and his hole relaxes around the digit within seconds. He brushes his fingertip over his prostate every so often, knowing exactly how to quirk his finger to hit it spot on, but his intent is more to prep him for more. A second finger, then a third, join quickly.

Once Seto’s sufficiently loose and wet, he pulls his fingers out. He adds more lube to his hand and reaches for the first vibrator in a row of toys that steadily grow larger in size.

He plays his husband’s body like a finely tuned instrument that he’s mastered over the course of several years.

He plucks his strings in perfect order and the room fills with a melody of pants and whimpers. The desperation is palpable, and Ryou’s in for a feast.

He fills him with a vibrator and pushes it in and out at a low setting until his muscles tense, and he turns it off and pulls it out all at once. He waits until his breathing evens out and he relaxes back into his straps, then presses in with the next toy, a vibrator that heats up with realistic veins that’s one size up from the last.

His hole stretches to accommodate, and he’s brought back to the edge, only to be denied again. And again. And again.

Ryou’s generous with the lube and switches toys as he sees fit, getting bigger with each one. Oh it’ll be a nuisance to clean this all up later, but it’s worth it. All of the work is worth it.

Seto’s mouth is open as he pants harshly and drool collects on the pillow beneath him. His hole is red from overuse, his cock is so hard it hurts and weeps pitifully, his precum dribbling off his length to pool on the floor. His mind is filled with fog; all he can fathom in this moment is the pleasure that’s constantly just out of reach.

A bullet vibrator is slipped into him next. It’s smaller than the others and his body practically swallows it up. Still, his hole is sore and he gasps at the stretch. It’s turned on to a medium setting and Ryou drops the remote connected to it via a chord. It dangles down between his legs and pulls at the vibrator, Seto clenches to keep it from falling out. He’s too buzzed off adrenaline to think what Ryou might be up to next.

Something leather is stroked along the back of his hand. He twitches at the unexpected touch, but he doesn’t have the energy to flip his hand over to feel it with his fingertips and figure out what it is. The thing is dragged across his cheek and neck as Ryou returns to his bottom half. Something sharp connects with the back of his thigh; it’s not painful, but it stings, the exact force that makes his nerves spike into pleasure without slipping into fear.

It comes down again on the other thigh. Then his feet, and back to his thighs, and a few across his ass. His back is off-limits for this, but even if he wasn’t wearing his hoodie, Ryou knows that; the skin available to him now is his usual playing ground.

The vibrator shifts inside him and his hole clenches even tighter.

Ryou drags the crop across his balls and cock, he taps them only hard enough to sting. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes as his body is torn between pain and pleasure. Seto’s not a talker, but if he wanted to beg he wouldn’t be able to manage it. He’s too disoriented to form words, not even in his mind. All he can think is sensation and need.

In a couple of seconds the speed is increased on the toy and the crop lands on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. His whimper breaks into a scream.

He whines when the vibrator is turned off and pulled out.

His empty hole clenches around nothing, yearning for something - anything - to fill him again.

Ryou shushes gently, “Patience, pet.”

He huffs. His entire body is trembling, sweat is soaking his clothes, his skin is overheated and feverish, his face is wet with tears and saliva, he’s a mess, and he needs to cum, more than he cares about any of that.

Something presses against his hole. If he could move, he’d push into it and take it all in, but he’s stuck in place. He shoves his face into the pillow, not even noticing the pool of drool.

It goes in, then further in, and his hole is stretched until it’s spread wider than before. He wants it so badly, he’s so eager and pliant and desperate, his body lets the large intrusion in like a welcomed guest. If he were in a better state of mind, he’d recognize it to be his favourite dragon inspired piece. The odd shapes and grooves feel delicious against his inner walls, and seconds pass and it’s still slowly being pushed into him.

His exhales are harsh and ragged and his inhales are shaky. Heat coils in his stomach at the sensations pressing into him. He wants to push back and take it, he wants to thrust. He needs more.

Two large silicone balls rest against his ass; it’s all in.

He’s so full. 

Ryou doesn’t let him catch his breath. The large dildo is slowly thrust in and out of him, steadily gaining speed.

He sobs. It feels so good.

“It’s okay, pet, I’ve got you,” Ryou says gently.

His husband’s voice only further amplifies the pleasure.

His body is rocked back and forth with the increasing hard thrusts, the toy so large it always nudges his prostate. The heat spreads through his veins, every single one of his muscles grows tense, and the fog in his mind thickens.

A warm hand wraps around his poor aching cock for the first time that night.

It’s almost instant. The sudden pressure on his erection and the thrust in against his prostate has his orgasm tearing through him. Finally.

He cums hard, his balls draining every drop accumulated over so many denied releases. Ryou strokes him through it while whispering sweet nothings. His vision goes dark and his body goes limp. Ryou releases him once his cock has gone soft and kisses his shoulder.

“Give me one second and I’ll get you down.”

The toy is slowly pulled out of his body, and in his current state he doesn’t notice. The fog has taken over, he doesn’t feel his body anymore, he can’t think or process anything.

Ryou sets it aside. He pulls down the top cover on the bed and gets to releasing Seto. He starts with his arms, freeing them and taking a moment to rub his hands and wrists to help the blood flow. He lifts his pants into place and does the legs next. He helps him get his feet on the ground and stand.

As much as he loves his giant husband, Ryou has learned that love is not a replacement for strength, and he absolutely cannot lift him. He’d set up the chair right next to their bed, and with a couple of wobbly steps he can drop Seto on the mattress. Seto’s in a very happy place right now and is entirely useless, and Ryou does his best to move him until he’s laying across the bed the right way up. He’s too low on the bed to reach the pillows and Ryou just slides that down to Seto rather than try to bring him up to it.

He kisses his cheek. Seto’s eyes are closed and he doesn’t so much as twitch.

“I’m going to get a couple things to clean you up, I’ll be back in one minute.” He gives him one more kiss, not expecting a response, and retreats to the bathroom.

His own erection is ready to burst and a few harsh tugs to the memory of his debauched husband has him releasing in the toilet. With that out of the way, and his own mind a little clearer, he wets a cloth in warm water and takes that and a dry cloth to Seto.

In a few minutes he has Seto out of his clothes, washed up as much as possible, and under the satin sheets. Ryou takes a few extra minutes to clean up after them. It would be worse to leave it until morning, another lesson learned the hard way.

He tosses off his clothes, turns off the lights, and joins Seto under the covers once everything’s done and put away. He cradles him to his chest, and Seto mumbles sleepily and curls into him. Ryou kisses his cheek while his heart swells with fondness.

“I love you,” he whispers.

His blissed out partner gives no response, and that just means he did his job right.

Chapter Text

Seto wakes up pleasantly sore from the familiar aches and pains of a physically exhausting night. His arms are wrapped around Ryou’s waist while he’s seated up against the headboard. Ryou’s slipped into sweatpants but his torso is bare, and his head is pressed into his naked side. His bleary eyes open to minimal lighting in the room, thanks to a singular lamp on the other side of the bed. The only window in the room is blacked out for assured privacy and the main light has been left turned off.

He tilts his head to the side and glances up at Ryou, who sets aside his phone and smiles down at him, “Good morning!”

“Morning,” he mumbles.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Thirsty.”

“I got you.” Ryou leans over to the bedside table and returns with a water bottle. He uncaps it and with a bit of manoeuvring gets it to his lips.

It tastes wonderful; his parched throat and dry mouth are instantly soothed.

“Thanks,” he says.

Ryou tosses aside the bottle. He lifts the blanket that’s draped across his thighs and shimmies under it. Seto’s arms stay where they are and he goes from wrapped around his waist to his shoulders. Now face to face, Ryou kisses him.

“You completely crashed. I figured you would, I know you haven’t slept well this week. Did you want to sleep a bit longer?”

“What time is it?”

“A bit after ten.”

“… in the morning?”

“What can I say? I know how to tire you out.”

He groans and rolls onto his back. He starts shoving off the blankets, but Ryou reaches down and tugs them back up to their chests.

“Stay a bit longer.”

“I need to shower.”

“We both do. We can survive being smelly together. C’m’ere.” He grabs his opposite arm and pulls him onto his side, Seto complying with his directions rather than resisting, and kisses his nose when they’re facing each other again. “You’re really feeling alright? You were a little off at the start there. I probably should have checked in a bit more than I did, sorry darling.”

“It was perfect.”

“Good. Now-” Seto huffs, and Ryou grins, “I know, I know. We need to talk about what’s been bugging you. Like I said, you haven’t been sleeping well lately, and you’ve been staying at the office late with no upcoming deadline, and you’ve barely touched me all week. I know this has to do with Bakura, and I thought it would sort itself out, but you know I don’t like it when you bottle stuff so much it starts messing with your sleep, and I don’t want to keep waiting this out.”

Seto flips onto his back and Ryou doesn’t stop him this time. The morning after Ryou has squeezed out some of his stress, Seto will be more open to being open about his feelings, but he isn’t great at heart to heart chats and finds it more difficult if there’s eye contact.

“Talk to me, Seto. Whatever it is, we can talk this through,” Ryou adds.

He works his jaw for a second. This doesn’t come as a surprise. That doesn’t mean he’s prepared.

“I worry that…” he stops short and sighs. He starts over, in the confines of their safe space he allows himself to be completely honest, “I am… terrified that you’re going to leave me. For him.”

Silence spreads as Ryou absorbs the words.

He pushes himself up on his elbow and stares down at him. Seto struggles to maintain a look of indifference as he meets Ryou’s gaze.

“That’s… not what I thought the issue was,” Ryou tries to find his footing after being caught so off-guard. “I thought it was more like… you didn’t like him because - well, for any number of reasons, really.”

In truth, he’d assumed it was residual anger from the kiss. Not in Ryou’s direction, he believes the genuity of his forgiveness, but rather aimed at Bakura. Seto tends to be a bit possessive, and someone else putting the moves on his husband always leaves him grumpy. And though Bakura is keeping his hands to himself, he’s not subtle in his gaze. Ryou’s only human, and it’s flattering being looked at like that, but his perceptive partner wouldn’t like it very much.

But leaving Seto?

That hadn’t crossed his mind in the slightest.

The thing is… Ryou can’t empathize. He’s always held a bit of pride from being Seto’s one and only. There’s no past lover he can use to try and imagine this same scenario in reverse. He shares Seto’s heart with Mokuba, sure, but it’s a different kind of love. There have always been people trying to wiggle their way between them, and Ryou isn’t immune to jealousy, but there’s never been anyone close to anything like a threat.

Not that Bakura is a threat, but, on further thought, he can see where Seto might have gotten the idea.

“Is that really what’s been bothering you?” he asks, unable to hide his disbelief.

Seto’s answer is in the pursing of his lips.

“I’m sorry, my love, but I’m pretty sure my contract states I’m non-refundable,” he teases while waggling his fingers, his wedding ring on display.

Seto smiles fondly. He grabs his hand and kisses the ring.

“But, seriously, why is this something you’re worrying about? I made it very clear to you - and Bakura - that he and I aren’t going to be a thing again,” Ryou says. Their clasped hands lower to rest on Seto’s chest.

Seto stares fixedly at the ceiling.

“I know that’s your intention, but… You two didn’t break up, Ryou. You never fell out of love with him. If he’d never died, you two would still be together. I have to wonder if you’d… if he’d make you happier.”

Ryou releases a sad sigh. He let’s go of his hand and runs his fingers through Seto’s hair. He wants him to look at him, but won’t force it. 

“Okay, I’m going to start with this alternate timeline you’ve been imagining. I’ll accept the blame for that because I let you sit with your thoughts too long, and I know better. I can’t say if he and I would have worked out or not. If you recall, he was a ghost living in my head. It wasn’t exactly a healthy relationship. I’m not going to make any assumptions about what could have been, but I know for a fact that I’m happy with the timeline we ended up in.”

“But would you be happier-”

“Seto.”

His jaw clamps shut with an audible click.

“I don’t know how to say this and have you believe me. I married you, Seto. I love you. I have every intention of spending the rest of my life with you. I’m not going to leave you for Bakura, that’s not something that’s come to mind whatsoever. This situation is complicated, I get that. I’m not going to lie, you know that I love him, but that’s left over from more than ten years ago. We’re both on the same page about us being friends, and only friends, and we’re working on determining what that looks like for us.”

Seto reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind Ryou’s ear and finally meets his gaze.

Ryou smiles warmly, and continues, “But I can see why this would be hurting you. So, we need to find a middle ground. I think you understand that I can’t cut him off entirely, right? If you asked me to, I don’t know…” he stutters to a stop.

It’s a painful thought. Bakura’s not ignorant to the world, he’s survived the worst and come through mostly unscathed, he could leave here and never look back and live out the rest of his life just fine without Ryou’s help. But knowing he’s out there and not having access to him is too painful to bear.

Is that connection what has his husband so distressed? He could never leave Seto, but is cutting ties with Bakura the only way to keep him?

Seto doesn’t make him wait.

“I wouldn’t ask that.”

Ryou tries not to look relieved.

“Then we find a compromise. I’m going to get him booked into a hotel later today, I won’t have him staying here anymore, but we’re still going to end up spending a lot of time together during the day. At least until he has his own place and a job and all that.”

“Are you sure you’d be alright with that?”

“It’ll be good for us to have some time apart anyway. I think we can all agree on that. Now, question - I’ll have him come here or I’ll go to him while you’re at work and around my own schedule. Do you want me to tell you when we’re together, or would you rather not know at all? What would give you more peace of mind?”

“I don’t need to be treated with kid gloves, Ryou.”

“You’ve been torturing yourself thinking that I’m going to leave you. I'm not letting that happen any longer. We’ve agreed that I’m still going to spend time with him, so how do we make that easier for you?”

Seto wraps his arms around his shoulders and tugs him down until Ryou is laying on top of him.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I know you’re avoiding the question because you don’t know the answer. You don’t fool me, Seto Kaiba.”

His grip tightens around him and he releases a low sigh, “Fine. Let’s go with… text me when you meet up. That’ll be better than not knowing at all.”

It’s not necessarily the time they spend together that bothers him, it’s more knowing how they feel about each other whether they’re together or apart, but also not knowing when and how long they’re together will only make him anxious as the days go on. There’s no perfect solution here, but they wouldn’t be in this bed at all if he didn’t trust Ryou absolutely.

He says not to worry about their relationship, and with Bakura being moved out of his home, Seto hopes he’ll start feeling the same way soon.

“I’ll do that then. And you need to keep talking to me about this, okay? If you’re still feeling this way in a few days, or maybe we give it a couple of weeks - things will really change once he’s doing more on his own -, then we can take a look at our options.”

“We’ll circle back to it?” Seto hides his grin in Ryou’s hair.

Ryou chuckles, “Exactly.”

Their little inside joke lightens the mood. Ryou kisses his chest and shuffles off him, “Come on. Shower time. I want you to wash my hair, and if you do it real well I’ll give you a reward.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it up so soon after last night.”

“I think I can persuade Kaiba Jr. to join the party.” Ryou laughs brightly at Seto’s look of disgust.

“Still the worst thing you call it.”

On unsteady feet he follows him into the bathroom and muffles his giggling with a kiss.

-o-o-o-

While Seto lounges in the living room watching TV, too exhausted to do anything else today, Ryou tugs Bakura to the kitchen to help him with lunch. This isn’t a conversation to be had in front of Seto, Ryou has some suspicions about how this is going to go and his finally de-stressed husband could do without witnessing it.

“I booked a hotel room for you. After we eat we’ll pack up your stuff and I’ll drive you over there; that’s where you’ll be staying instead from now on. Until we find you your own place,” he says without preamble.

He glances at Bakura and finds him already looking at him with his face set in a deep frown.

“Let me guess, Kaiba’s being a dick?”

“Don’t. He has every right to be comfortable in his own home.”

“I don’t even talk to the guy! We’re never in the same room!”

“You don’t understand how hard this is for him.”

“For him? He’s the one who won here!”

“I’m not a prize,” Ryou says, a warning in his tone.

“Don’t do that, you know what I mean. He has you, and I don’t. What the fuck does he have to be upset about?”

“He knows I’m faithful, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy seeing me spend so much time with someone I used to be involved with. Surely you can see where he’s coming from.”

Bakura turns back to the tomatoes he’s chopping and the next two pieces are torn and uneven from the strength behind the knife. The next cut digs into the cutting board and he has to pry it out.

He mutters coldly, “So I’m getting the boot then?”

“What? No, nothing like that.” Ryou puts down the lettuce and slides in behind him. He wraps his arms around his stomach and lays his head against the back of his shoulder, reminiscent to how he’d comforted his husband last night, but he doesn’t dwell on that. 

Bakura stiffens for a brief moment, then slowly melts into the touch.

After his first day back, Ryou has been careful not to touch him at all. Getting this touch, something as simple as a hug, makes his eyes burn. He could cry. He’s missed it more than he’d allowed himself to accept. He hangs his head, his anger sizzling out into mourning the relationship long ended.

“Seto understands that I can’t let you go. I love you, Bakura, and we’re always going to be friends. We’ll make that enough for us, and giving us some space is only going to help. I’m still going to visit you every day, or you’ll come here, and we’ll finish up your resume and find you a job, and we’ll go apartment hunting together, and maybe next weekend you can come hang out with me and the others and they can be your friends too. They want to see you, you know, get to know you properly. I’m not going to abandon you. I could never do that to you.”

He lays his palms flat against the counter top to keep them from grabbing Ryou.

“I love you, too,” he whispers.

“I know,” Ryou whispers back. He sets his chin on his shoulder and says, more confident, more assured, “But that doesn’t have to be romantic. Having you back… it’s amazing. Things are different than before, but getting to be your friend… that makes me so, so happy.”

“Then will you stop treating me like I’ve got the plague?”

“Hm?” Ryou hums with a questioning lilt.

“This is the first time you’ve touched me since… I think it was at that stupid Doctor’s office.”

“When you needed me to hold your hand while you got your shots?”

“Shut up.”

Ryou snickers briefly, then gives him a tight squeeze until he groans in pain.

“Okay, you’re right. I’ve been a bit… I’ve probably made things worse by keeping you at a distance like that. I’ll give you all the hugs you want. But you’ll spend the nights at the hotel and we’re going to give each other some space. We’ll start from scratch and learn how to be friends. How does that sound?”

“It’s fine, I guess. Probably shouldn’t mooch off your rich husband forever anyway… But you’re paying for the room, right?”

“Of course. And yes, enjoy the room service. And also yes, the room has a jacuzzi tub.”

“Hell yeah.” He lifts his head and the tears are replaced with a joyful glint. He’s so done having to fight for scraps - if he can’t have Ryou, then at the very least he has earned the right to be spoiled.

“You’re welcome.” Ryou releases him. He pinches his cheek affectionately and returns to washing the lettuce. “You know, when things are less awkward and you two get to know each other better, I think you and Seto are going to get along.”

“Ugh, why does that sound like a threat?”

“Just you wait. One of these days, I’m gonna run a campaign for you two, and you’ll see I was right.”

“I’d rather be friends with Yugi.”

“But I’m going to need to stock up on NPCs since I’ll have two of you going around murdering everyone that looks at you funny… and sleeping with the rest of them.”

“Heh. For a guy with a log up his ass, sounds like he likes to have fun.”

“And he also loves dramatic coats.”

“I think you have a type.”

“I guess so,” Ryou says with a laugh.

-o-o-o-

That first night where they’re separated by several streets rather than a couple of walls is a restless one.

Bakura has gotten used to sleeping in a bed alone, but knowing that his former host is so far away makes him melancholic. It’s Ryou’s promise of coming over bright and early the next morning that keeps him from the alcohol. He’d feel extra pathetic if Ryou guesses that his hangover is from a solo pity party.

Suppose he’s grown up, if he can think that far ahead to consider the consequences of his own actions. Being an adult sucks. 

A few blocks away, Seto sleeps more peacefully than the previous nights, but there are some lingering doubts that refuse to be dislodged. He doesn’t feel good about separating them. He fears the impact it’ll have on Ryou, and, in that tiny part of him that accepts that he doesn’t actually hate Bakura, he’s concerned about how he’ll deal with it too.

As for Ryou, he worries for both of them and tries not to think too hard about his own feelings on all of this. 

Chapter Text

A week and a half is not enough time to form a habit, but Ryou finds himself glancing at the sofa in his studio expecting to find Bakura on multiple occasions over the next few days. Which brings him back to all those years ago after being separated from the Millennium Ring for the last time.

He’d spent so many weeks looking over his shoulder in search of the translucent shape of his mirror image and fell deeper into grief every time his search came up empty. His hand would rest over his chest, feeling for the item that had been taken from him. He was gone, and eventually he grew to accept that.

Eventually he would stop talking aloud in an empty room expecting an answer and he would stop complaining about the stolen goods he’d find stashed around his apartment, but the mourning never came to an end.

But now he’s alive - he’s just not here.

This longing in his chest is similar to the way he feels when Seto goes off on a business trip and is away for a few days, but this one is easier to quell. He goes to see Bakura whenever his schedule is open and Seto is at the office. They keep their meetings outside the house, for Seto’s sake, and they sometimes hang out in the hotel room but mostly explore the city while looking for job postings.

They eat a lot, talk a lot, and make very little headway in the job department, but Ryou isn’t rushing him and Bakura doesn’t deem it urgent. He doesn’t need his own place as soon as possible now that he’s been booted to a hotel, and he has no qualms about relying on their money. 

When his best skills include pickpocketing, lockpicking, and tomb robbing, he and Ryou don’t know what career would even suit him, and they spend more time discussing it than passing out resumes.

Around this time spent together, Bakura has a sudden influx of alone time, and initially the thought had freaked him out.

When he’d been tied to the Ring he’d been tied to Ryou; even when he’d shoved him in his soul room he’d felt his presence. Being entirely alone is a little scary, though he’s too proud to admit that.

But without the concern for Ryou’s well-being, first as a viable host and later as a partner, the freedom grows on him. He spends a bit of time acquainting himself with modern technology, fiddling with his phone and a laptop that Ryou gives him, and flicking through TV channels, but most of his time is spent outside the hotel.

He wanders. He walks the streets and takes in the sights, both new and old - changed and unchanged, with his own two eyes. Yes he swipes a wallet or two, but the lady was wearing a fur coat and the guy’s shoes were designer, and he knows how to pick his targets. He takes the cash and dumps the rest in the nearest bin.

He’s no longer influenced by a dark God, but he’s not the perfect picture of moral goodness either. He hovers somewhere in between, living in the grey parts of life, and that works just fine for him.

Domino city is relatively the same as the last time he’d seen it. He pops into the museum; Ishizu’s Egyptian exhibit is long gone, and he takes his time exploring the latest exhibit surrounding the evolution of Chinese architecture. He visits the art stores Ryou used to go to, and that one bakery he loved, and he passes his old high school. 

Without Necrophades clouding his mind, everything takes on a new light. Where the school had once been a distraction, and later a way to get to the Millennium Puzzle, Bakura can see it now as a place where Ryou had made his lifelong friends - and met his future husband. There had been bullies that Bakura dealt with for him, an agonizing gym class for his nonathletic host, and language classes he slept through. There had been rooftop lunches and love confessions and laughter.

The bakery had been an unnecessary indulgence, the art stores and the subsequent crafts a waste of time; everything Ryou had done had been a step away from their goal. He was weak, and frail, and fragile, and he was a pathetic excuse for a host to the great God Zorc Necrophades.

Yet he was the one strong enough to carry the burden of a powerful dark entity and a spirit who had tried with all his might to crush his soul.

Everything is suddenly brand new.

He uses his free time to fall in love with the world he’d once sought to destroy, and while there’s a prickling of guilt at his role in that, he focuses mainly on the relief that it never came to fruition.

-o-o-o-

“We’re meeting up with everyone Saturday for dinner at the Yahtzee. They do hot pot there, I know you’ve been craving it.”

“Who’s ‘everyone’?”

“Everyone you think. Yugi, Katsuya, Anzu, and…Hiroto said it would depend how Meg’s doing, and Ryuji’s going to make it too. Oh, and Mokuba said he’d be able to come. He wants to meet you too.”

“Is ‘meeting’ new slang for murder?”

“I’ll never tell.”

“Is your boytoy going to be there?”

“Yes, he’ll be there too. He promised Yugi he’d join us next time we meet up and we don’t want the questions. Can you promise to behave?”

“If he does.”

“Bakura, please.”

“I mean it. He’s the one being a jealous bitch, not me.”

“You’re exhausting.”

“Fine. I’ll play nice and be the bigger person. I have to pretend I’ve never seen you naked, right? They think we were just BFFs or something?”

“We shared a body, you seeing me naked is the least - no. Nevermind. They’re aware we were friends. We’ll keep anything more than that between us.”

“Alright. Who do you think is gonna throw the first punch?”

“No one!"

-o-o-o-

When they arrive, only Yugi and Katsuya are already there. They exchange greetings; the former pleasant and the latter stilted.

They’d placed a reservation and their table is circular and large enough for their group of ten. It leaves no corner for him to put Bakura, and Ryou sits him between himself and Yugi; he’ll be the least likely to react badly to anything Bakura has to say. Seto takes his place at Ryou’s other side.

“It’s obvious now that it makes no sense, but I thought you were going to look like Ryou. I suppose this is your body from when you were alive? The first time, I mean,” Yugi asks.

“Yup. The OG.”

“It’s nice to finally get to meet the real you,” Yugi says with a smile.

Katsuya scoffs, “If he’s actually who he says he is. I’m not buyin’ the innocent act!” 

“Kats’,” Yugi reproaches in a whisper.

They exchange a brief look, and Katsuya turns his hard stare back to Bakura, “Look, I promised to give the benefit of the doubt and all that, but I’m watching ya’.”

Bakura sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry at him in response.

Yugi, ever the mediator, speaks before Katsuya can, “How have you been adjusting to being back?”

He shrugs, “It’s fine. Some stuff’s changed, but mostly it’s the same. You’re not a total squirt anymore, so that’s weird. Are you really Yugi?” He pokes him in the cheek with his chopsticks.

“Definitely still me!” Yugi laughs. “I forgot how short I used to be. It must be weird for you to see us all grown up. Did Ryou tell you that Hiroto is having a baby?”

“I heard. Also heard the poor babe’s drowning in Duel Monster merch already.”

“We may have gone a bit overboard,” Yugi says.

“But no one’s as bad as that guy!” Katsuya points at Seto, who shrugs indifferently.

“It’s only appropriate that they learn from an early age which is the best Duel Monster.”

“Do I want to know what Blue-Eyes monstrosity you’ve given this unborn baby?” Bakura asks.

“Monstrosities. Plural,” Ryou chimes in.

Seto also sent the couple enough diapers to care for this child (and the next three) and a top of the line crib and changing table. He’s more than earned the right to send over a toddler sized BEWD plushy and a vast assortment of Duel Monster themed clothes - mostly featuring his favourite dragon. Ryou signed the card with an apology.

Bakura snickers and Seto makes no attempt to defend himself. 

The conversation shifts as the rest of their group trickles in.

Anzu goes around the table giving hugs. She pats Bakura’s shoulder and offers a hesitant smile and he’s tense until she walks away. Mokuba and Ryuji wave and grin and offer pleasant greetings all around, perfectly polite to the new addition - neither of them experienced the worst of Bakura’s actions and both choose to be extra kind for Ryou’s sake. Hiroto comes with his wife Megumi, somewhere past five months pregnant, and he helps her into her seat and takes the last one for himself. He briefly introduces her to Bakura with a line about him being Ryou’s old friend, and aside from a hard stare, he doesn’t acknowledge Bakura directly.

He clues in that the wife knows nothing about the Millennium Items and their hectic high school years. Not surprising; how does someone explain all that to someone who hadn’t been around? Ryou gives him a warning look he doesn’t need - he’s not going to be the one to bring it up. 

The guy’s put on more muscle since he’d been a teenager, and Bakura’s last physical fight was… he can’t remember when. He’d become reliant on shadow magic. But if Hiroto’s a huge dick during the meal he can always swipe his wallet.

Then his conscience rings with the reminder of him having a child soon and that goes out the window. Fine, he’ll go for the sucker punch if he needs to.

While Bakura sits there pondering how to get the one up on Hiroto if the time comes for it, Seto steadily relaxes. He’s between his two favourite people, Ryou and Mokuba, and no one’s outright asking for his opinion on Bakura and mostly everyone’s dancing around it - having Megumi here helps to avoid their uneasy history.

Seto assumes that was a very deliberate choice on Hiroto’s part.

It had taken a very long time for him to view all these people as his friends, but when that obstacle was finally overcome, it vastly improved many parts of his life. He helps Yugi test out his various board games, he and Katsuya still duel and exchange quips that are more joke than insult, he goes with the whole group to see Anzu’s performances, he and Hiroto talk shop, and he and Ryuji talk business.

Corporate dinners are all passive aggressive comments and negotiations and someone trying to get him to drink away his sensibilities, but surrounded by friends he can let his shoulders come down from around his ears and appreciate the chaos of multiple ongoing conversations. He chats with everyone at different times that night and can get away with ignoring Bakura without anyone noticing. Ryou doesn’t even give him any looks.

Mokuba does, but he pretends he doesn’t see them. He’s told his little brother that he and Ryou had a talk, but he can see straight through to Seto’s unease anyway.

Ryou sits very happily between his two favourite boys and surrounded by most of his favourite people. He and Hiroto had agreed that he should bring Megumi as a buffer to ensure everyone stays on their best behaviour. With his heart warm with affection for all of these people, he watches Yugi make small talk with Bakura, who gives short answers in between large bites of food but at least he’s making some sort of effort.

They all over indulge, but the delicious food keeps everyone in high spirits.

It’s a good dinner. A couple challenges are issued but no one pulls out their deck, and a game night is scheduled for two weeks out. Ryou considers a night a success when Duel Monster cards don’t end up on the table at some point, and for tonight in particular, it’s even more successful because no one gets hurt.

Dinner is paid - no one fights Seto when he places his black card on the bill, they’ve all learned that’s not a fight worth having.

Leaving is slow progress with everyone exchanging goodbyes and well wishes. Bakura hovers in the back, his arms crossed and his lips pursed in annoyance. He’s eaten his fill and is more than ready to get going.

Hiroto sneaks away from the group and slides up to him. He throws a casual arm around his shoulders and tugs him into his side. Bakura frowns, but doesn’t try to toss him off.

“Just thought I’d make this clear - you hurt Ryou again, and I’m going to kill you,” he whispers with a wide smile on his lips, keeping the threat off his face for any onlookers.

“Huh. You’re actually the first to say that to me since I got back. I remember now why you were always my favourite out of the bunch.”

Ryou glances in their direction and his lips draw tight with concern.

Hiroto takes that as his queue to leave. He pats Bakura’s shoulder with a heavy hand and says, “I’m not taking that as a compliment. Later.” His arm drops away and he returns to the rest of the group.

Ryou watches him walk away then looks back over at Bakura to assess his expression. He grins and shrugs, and Ryou smiles in relief.

Bakura’s been threatened innumerable times in his life, and this is the one time he doesn’t feel immediately inclined to push back or turn that threat on its head. Ryou deserves to have people looking out for him, and it’s not like he doesn’t deserve their suspicion.

Everyone disperses eventually; after a few more hugs, a couple reminders of their next get together, and some stray bits of conversation.

The three of them pile into a sleek and discreet black vehicle; Seto had opted to drive and sits behind the wheel, Ryou takes the passenger seat, and Bakura settles in the back. On the drive to the restaurant Ryou had tried to get the two of them talking to each other, but had had no success. For the drive to the hotel to drop him off, he leaves Seto to his thoughts and chats with Bakura.

“I think that went really well! How are you feeling about it?”

“It was fine,” Bakura says. His eyelids are droopy and his limbs are heavy, the fatigue that comes from being unpleasantly stuffed is starting to weigh him down.

Ryou turns in his seat to look at him, “Is that all you have to say about it? I thought you’d be upset you didn’t get to fight anyone.”

He chuckles, “Nah.”

“He realized he was the runt of the group,” Seto says, amusement in his tone.

Bakura kicks the back of his seat. “I could totally take any of them in a fight… if I had a knife.”

“And they didn’t.” Ryou adds.

“Shut up. When did all your loser friends get ripped anyway? Yugi’s still a wimp, a little taller but still scrawny as shit, and so are you, but is everyone else chugging protein shakes all day?”

“Their jobs are a lot more physical than Yugi and I’s. Katsuya works part-time in a shipping facility when he’s not duelling, Hiroto is a mechanic and lifts a lot of tires, or something, I don’t really know, and Anzu dances professionally.”

“And the dice guy?”

“Ryuji’s just vain.”

“That tracks.”

“But you really thought it went alright? I’m hoping you want to keep joining us, it’ll be good for you to have more friends than just us.”

Ryou ignores the twin looks of disbelief at his insinuation that Seto and Bakura are friends. He can dream.

“It’s obvious you told them about Kul Elna. The pity was mightier than the anger.”

“It’s not pity; it’s sympathy. There’s a difference.”

“Works in my favour either way.”

“They understand that you and Zorc are separate entities and they’re open to giving you a second chance. If you’re nice to them, they’ll be nice to you.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” Seto agrees.

They may have a strenuous relationship, but the two of them have plenty they can see eye to eye on - Ryou keeps that observation to himself.

He’s considering the night a success.

Chapter Text

There’s something to be said about adulthood.

And that something is that it’s repetitive.  Free time is spent constantly trying to find ways to stave off the boredom of monotony.

If Bakura had grown into adulthood like a normal person, he’d probably have found it a natural progression to life. Being thrown into it so suddenly is like a slap to the face. He can’t call up Ryou at any minute of the day; he has to work, or do housework, or spend time with his husband or brother-in-law, or he’s on a call with a friend, or it’s night and he’s asleep at a reasonable time.

When he’d shared a body with Ryou, there had never been loneliness; they’d protected each other from that. If Ryou had to go to school, he could take over the body and go do something else if he wanted, or follow the original plan and observe his classmates or talk to his annoyed host. In those days, his thoughts had been filled with revenge and Gods and their deals and everything had been so big.

Now life is so… small.

His only responsibility is to live - he doesn’t need to make ends meet, he has food a call away and unlimited fresh water. He doesn’t have to worry about survival anymore, and he has no idea what to do with himself.

Ryou offers him a commiserating smile and tells him that’s how life is, sometimes. He’d felt the same way when he’d finished school and his current incoming commission rate wasn’t enough to occupy all of his free time; he’d been restless, and in time had learned to keep himself busy in a way that fulfilled him. Bakura would too.

He uses the money Ryou keeps sneaking into his wallet to go see a couple of movies. He eats at a few different restaurants, some familiar and some little holes in the wall he’d never noticed before. He buys paper and charcoal and starts sketching. He watches a lot of TV, plays some video games, and texts Ryou more than he’s able to respond, but that’s fine.

In all those years of fighting his way home, he’d never thought about what would happen after Day Zero of landing in Ryou’s arms. 

This whole being a person thing is frustrating.

He comes to a stop in front of the Kame Game Shop one evening, but doesn’t step inside. The old man’s still alive. Probably. No one mentioned he was dead. It’s unlikely he wants to see Bakura of all people, and over dinner the other day Yugi had mentioned that he’d taken over but had hired staff to cover most of the shifts. He’s probably not in there, and he probably wouldn’t have anything to say to Bakura even if he was.

He continues on his journey.

Bakura walks the streets of Domino City at all hours of the day. After dinner with Ryou he might leave the hotel and only return when the sun is coming up over the ocean's edge, or he might be up and about before even Seto has climbed out of bed.

It’s on one such morning that he pauses in front of Boggle Bakery, a shop he’s never seen before. He’s been walking for over an hour already and has somehow made it back within a few blocks of his hotel, and just as he’s passing by the sign is flipped from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’, drawing his attention to the advertisement on the window.

As someone who’s soul was locked into a piece of jewellery and found his host three thousand years later, in the same lifespan that his enemy found a host for his puzzle, he’d be remiss not to believe in fate. The Gods work in mysterious ways, and Shay - the god of fate - is no exception. Bakura may have tried to defy that predetermined fate all throughout his life, but this is an instance where he accepts it graciously.

He opens the door and walks up to the counter, behind which stands the middle aged woman who’d flipped the sign.

“Welcome!” she greets cheerfully.

“I saw the help wanted sign. Are you still looking?”

“Yes, I am. I take it you’re interested?”

“I am.”

She eyes him carefully for a moment, her stern gaze raking over him with a judging glint, then asks, “You sure?”

“Yup.”

The leather coat is probably not the best choice for this, nor the jeans with the hole in the knee. Too late to back out now.

“Alright. I’ll give you five minutes.”

She leaves her spot behind the counter to flip the sign back to closed. She waves over Bakura and the two sit at one of the empty tables - one of four in the fairly small storefront. Most of the front room is filled with display cases showing off delicious looking, and smelling, pastries of all sorts.

He’d expected to be given a date and time to meet up for an interview, or be refused outright. This is a bit sudden, but he can roll with it.

“I’m Chihiro. I own the place and I’m the head pastry chef. I lost my sous chef recently and that’s the role I’m looking to fill. It means a few less goods go out every day, but I’m not desperate. I’m only going to hire someone who’s a good fit. Now, let’s start easy - what’s your name?”

“Bakura.”

She’s probably considered intimidating to those who are easily intimidated, but he can tell that’s not what she’s aiming for. She’s no nonsense and wants competence; she’s not going to try and crush his spirit for fun. He relaxes into the seat and prepares himself to try, which is the best he has to offer.

“What experience do you have with baking?”

“Some. My… my, um…” His brain stutters to a stop as it searches for the right word to use to describe Ryou. He gives it a metaphorical kick back into gear and ignores the way her brow rises. “My friend got into it when he - we - were in high school. I learned through him, and he was really good at it. We made a lot of mochi, shokupan, melonpan, cheesecakes… all sorts of stuff.”

She nods, once, with no outward reaction of approval or disapproval.

“I don’t mind teaching someone who’s willing to learn, but it sounds like you have a decent foundation so long as this, ah… ‘friend’ didn’t give you any bad habits.” Bakura shifts awkwardly at the emphasis in her tone. “But being a sous-chef is tough hours. I handle the weekends, but their hours are Monday through Friday, four to twelve. And yes, that’s four in the morning. You being here right at six tells me you’re an early riser, but four can be brutal in the long run. Would you be up for that?”

“My schedule is whatever I want it to be. I can be here for four no problem.” An innate gift for a professional thief.

“Hm. And do you enjoy baking?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

His decorating skills leave something to be desired, he’s never had an eye for artsy things the way Ryou does, but he has a knack for the technical work. He doesn’t particularly care for eating the end results, but enjoys the making part. There's something soothing in the act of creation.

She leans back in her chair, crosses her arms over her chest, and observes him. With a shrug, she gives a nod, “Okay. We’ll do a trial run. As long as you work hard and keep whatever trouble you get into outside of this establishment, we’ll get on just fine.”

There’s no sense of shame at being pinpointed so quickly as a troublemaker. It’s in his blood, he can’t be blamed for that. But he takes note - no stealing while in the building. That's manageable.

“Deal.”

“Then be here tomorrow morning, four a.m. sharp. Don’t dress fancy, but dress better than that.” She gestures at his overall attire. “I’ll supply the coffee and the apron. Oh, and bring I.D, we’ll fill out the paperwork tomorrow too.”

“Okay,” he agrees before he fully processes what she’s said.

“Good.” She stands. “Now buy something or get out.”

The sign is flipped back to open and she returns to the counter.

He buys a croissant, a chocolate puff pastry, and coffee. He’s at the door when he turns back to also grab a red bean pastry. It’s a shot in the dark, and Seto won’t care about the effort, but… One of them should be trying, and he’s on a high, so he doesn’t care if he’s shot down.

He barely registers the walk to the Kaiba Estate. He inputs the code in the gate that he’d watched Ryou input once and was never actually provided. A security person spots him and gives him a look over his sunglasses - that are for aesthetic purposes only at this hour - but he doesn’t stop him from strutting into the house.

Bakura and Seto are both too alert and observant to run into each other, but it’s a close call when they round a corner at the same time. Seto comes to an abrupt halt, and Bakura smoothly bounces to the side to dodge him.

“Hey,” he offers.

“Why are you here?”

“Did the sunglasses guy rat me out?”

“That’s why I pay them.”

“Lame. Well, here.” He digs in the paper bag and pulls out the wrapped pastry. He holds it out and Seto, visibly hesitant, accepts it. “I know you’re boring, so I figured you wouldn’t like chocolate; I got you red bean instead.”

Seto slowly turns it over in his hand, staring at the treat with an almost confused furrow in his brow. After a moment of silence, he lifts his gaze up to Bakura and says, “Ryou takes a few minutes to get up in the morning, he shouldn’t be long. You can wait with me in the dining room.”

It’s not a thank you, yet it’s more than Bakura had expected.

He hasn’t been back at the house in a while; he’d noticed Ryou’s attempts to keep their meetings elsewhere and had honoured it up until now, but he was too excited not to share his good news in person. He thought Seto would make more of a fuss. Maybe things are looking up.

“Sure.”

He follows Seto. They sit at a table with too many chairs for a two-person household and before the seat has the chance to warm beneath him, staff comes in with breakfast. A carafe of coffee and three mugs are set down along with several steaming plates and bowls.

Bakura has already finished the coffee he bought at the bakery and fills a mug for his second cup of the morning. He removes the two pastries from the bag; he puts the chocolate one where Ryou’s going to sit and keeps the croissant for himself.

Too hungry to wait, he starts eating. 

Seto leaves his red bean pastry beside his plate while he does something on his phone. Bakura amuses himself by imagining that he’s staring at a blank screen, simply in an effort to ignore him.

“Hi, Kura!” Ryou greets cheerfully as he steps into the dining room only a minute later. He’s adorably frumpled in the early morning, still in pyjamas and hair done up in the messiest bun. Bakura averts his gaze so as not to stare too openly.

“Hey,” he answers around a mouthful of soft buttery bread.

“Ooh! What’s this?” Ryou sits and lifts the treat. He peels apart the wrapping and gasps excitedly as he realizes what it is. “Yes!” he exclaims and takes a giant bite.

It’s still somewhat warm, and still very chewy and delicious. He moans happily.

His eyes dart to the matching wrapper next to Seto’s plate. He meets his gaze then glances down at it then back at him. It’s an unsubtle prompting. With a gentle sigh he sets aside his phone and grabs it. He shows the revealed treat to Ryou for him to see what it is then takes a bite, one much smaller than the one his husband is still munching on.

Bakura ignores the entire exchange. He crumples the empty wrapper and digs into the food around him, from rice to natto to miso soup, all the regular staples of a spoiled household. Not that he’s complaining.

“Thanks, Kura. It’s really good. Is yours good, Seto?”

“Yes,” he answers simply.

“Enjoy it while you can. I might end up burning the place to the ground tomorrow.”

“Why’s that?” Ryou asks. Where Seto eyes him suspiciously, Ryou is unbothered by his statement, used to his exaggerations.

“I got a job there… I think.”

“What?!” Ryou straightens in his seat.

“Yeah. I was just walking by, saw they had a help wanted sign, and went in.”

“And you’ll be a baker? At a bakery?”

“Yup. Told the boss I knew a thing or two about it, and she’s giving me a shot. No idea if it’ll pan out, but…” he shrugs.

He can practically see Ryou’s eyes sparkling.

“Oh my god,” he whispers reverently. “I’m going to eat so many pastries.”

“Don’t you still make some for yourself all the time?”

“Well… yes, but it’s not the same! I don’t think you’ve ever cooked for me. This is going to be so much fun!”

“I’ve cooked for you.”

“It’s not cooking if the steak is still mooing.”

“Tch. You’re so difficult.”

“Do you have everything you need to start working?” Seto interrupts their back and forth. He’s finished the pastry and stares at Bakura over his phone.

“Yeah, I have the IDs and Ryou got me sorted with the banking stuff.”

“Good. Then I’ll be off.” He gets up and stops by Ryou to give him a kiss, “I’ll see you later,” he glances at Bakura, “both of you, I assume.”

“Bye, darling. Don’t work too hard.”

“Later.”

Bakura convinces Ryou that, no, they shouldn’t spend the day baking. He’d rather leave that for tomorrow. 

Instead, he trails after Ryou as he completes a couple quick household chores before they settle into his studio to while away time; Bakura laying on the couch, Ryou working at his desk, and the two of them chatting. They immediately fall back into the routine they’d left behind when Bakura had moved out.

-o-o-o-

His childhood memories are as foggy as childhood memories are meant to be, but the night of the massacre he can recall in vivid detail. He’d expected that night to haunt him until he was laid to his final rest.

Three thousand years later, separated from Zorc and experiencing the world his people lost but he gets to live - the grief remains, but he is no longer haunted. Not by a dark god and not by his loved ones. He climbs into bed, tosses aside the blankets because he’s always on the warm side, and sleeps soundly.

It’s not a sleep without dreams, but there are no nightmares. He closes his eyes and no longer sees fire and blood. He doesn’t wake with their screams ringing in his ears. The god of dreams gives him comfort instead.

Where in the real world his borrowed bed is big and empty and cold, in his dreams he has Ryou.

Chapter Text

Seto’s trying.

As the days and weeks pass, Bakura’s hardly in their house; he only sees him on occasion and it’s rarely just the two of them in a room. Without his constant presence he makes some progress in relaxing.

He’s back to his regular work hours, no longer needing to hide from the unwanted guest, and he and Ryou return to their almost daily intimacy. He makes love to him slow and sweet, and desperately reminds himself to stop treating each instance like it’ll be the last. Ryou asks every so often how he’s doing, and his answer is ‘better’ - it’s not a complete lie.

“Everything’s fine, Mokuba. I talked to Ryou, we dealt with it.”

“So you’re not brooding about your marriage anymore?”

“I was never brooding.”

“If you say so.”

“But no, I no longer have concerns about my marriage.”

“That’s great!” Mokuba’s words lack their usual enthusiasm.

He doesn’t believe his brother, but he can only push this so far. He’s called his brother-in-law recently and Ryou only said he’s aware of Seto’s concerns and they’re working through it. He’s told that Bakura’s moved out and is staying in a hotel, and that he’s been enjoying his new job as a full time baker. It’s proof that Seto really did have a conversation with Ryou about everything and changes are being done for his brother’s sake, but…

It’s not his place to tell Ryou that he should make a choice - his husband or his ex - but the words sit on his tongue aching to be freed. He adores Ryou, his love is the best thing that’s ever happened to his brother, and he’s been an absolutely wonderful addition to their tiny family, but Mokuba’s not thrilled with how all this is being handled.

Maybe Ryou senses his anger, because he offers a soft apology before the call is over.

Is there even a solution here that isn’t nuclear?

He has no idea. He has no advice for his brother or brother-in-law.

Seto waves him off and Mokuba leaves his office. He sits back in his chair and frowns at his screen, not registering anything on it, then tips his head back to stare at the ceiling.

Everyone has opinions. His little brother is carefully restrained, but their friends call him all the time to check in and see how he’s doing and if he and Bakura are getting along. And they don’t even know about Bakura and Ryou’s past relationship. It’s heart warming to have his feelings considered, even if it’s growing increasingly annoying.

He never has much to say on those calls.

His feelings remain frustratingly complicated.

He’s gotten better in the last decade at untangling the web of emotions in his heart, mostly thanks to Ryou’s unwavering patience, but he’s far from an expert. Logic and reason keep coming to blows with the dark feelings churning in his gut that he’s scared to name.

When he takes a step back and analyses what’s happening from an objective standpoint, he knows he’s being unreasonable, or so logic and reasoning dictate. He trusts his husband; he trusts his words and sense of loyalty. Bakura is off his property and learning to be independent and not rely on Ryou, and Ryou is allowed to have friends of his own. Seto doesn’t need to like him, or even tolerate him.

He shouldn’t still be bothered, and yet, he’s bothered.

Because - deep down he knows this is what’s truly the source of the issue - his husband is still in love with someone else. Residual from twelve years ago or not, those feelings remain. He’d confirmed it himself.

Bakura could be out of their lives entirely, and Seto still wouldn’t be as happy as he’d been before his return. He could ask Ryou to never speak to him again, he could move him across the country or across the ocean, and knowing that Ryou would long for him no matter what has its claws in his heart like nothing ever has before.

It had been one thing when that love had been for someone dead, it’s another entirely when it’s for a living, breathing human being.

He can sit down and force himself to sift through the dark mass of feelings this truth evokes in him. 

Possessiveness and selfishness are intertwined like toxic lovers; Ryou is his, and his alone. Jealousy and envy are at odds, leaving him with a deep sense of inadequacy; why can’t Ryou love him the way he does Bakura? There’s anger, a burning ache that’s the most familiar of the lot; because he has to wonder - Bakura isn’t worth all this, why can’t Ryou just move on already? He’s desperate for a resolution, yearning for the stable foundation that’s been swept out from under him unexpectedly, hopeless that there’s no turning back. In the deepest part of the mass, he finds resignation for a reality he deems inevitable.

He can put all of these emotions into boxes, label them with names and reasons. He can imagine tossing them into a fire, a metaphorical separation of physical and emotional. But they remain trapped in the pit of his stomach and embedded into his heart.

Seto Kaiba has made many impossible things possible, but even he can’t dig in someone’s brain and remove an emotion - not his own, and no one else’s. Any consideration he has for the idea is tossed aside immediately; there’s too much risk, and it’s not like Ryou would approve  of it.

Ryou can’t force himself to stop being in love with Bakura; Seto knows, from falling in love himself, that love is uncontrollable.

There’s nothing that can be controlled in this situation.

Seto has to hope that he’ll get over this, or that Ryou’s feelings will change over time.

That’s all there is to it.

-o-o-o-

Several weeks pass.

He’d like to say that Bakura’s appearance was a blip in their lives, but truthfully everything’s changed since. In no big way, but it’s in the little things.

They have game nights with their friends every so often, and Bakura’s there. All of Ryou’s stories about his day have Bakura in there somewhere. Even texts or calls from friends, all this time later, still bring him up every so often.

The biggest difference nowadays is the frequent appearances of pastry boxes with a familiar logo on them. Ryou has slowed down in his baking over the last few years, but now that someone he knows is making them, he’s found a whole new love for them. And he’s ‘supporting a local business’, is his excuse when Seto points out the third box of the week.

There’s no avoiding him, not totally.

“Hi, baby! The light of my life, my dearly beloved, the handsomest boy,” Ryou sing-songs his way to the corner of his desk.

“What do you want?” Seto asks. He tilts his head up for a kiss then immediately turns back to his laptop. 

“I just picked up Yugi’s new game.”

“I didn’t realize he was in the play testing stage already.”

“He got hit with inspiration, apparently.”

“Alright. I’m almost done, give me… half an hour.” This Saturday morning is spent answering emails and reviewing his schedule for the following week, nothing important. It’s not even noon yet. Spending most of the day playing games is much more enticing.

“Actually…”

He spots Ryou’s nervous smile out of the corner of his eye. His wary gaze flicks up to him.

“Yes?”

“You know I love you so much,” he steels himself for whatever’s to come, “and I was thinking… Maybe Bakura could play with us? He loves games as much as we do, and he hasn’t gotten to play any of Yugi’s games yet, and I was thinking it might be a nice way for you two to bond. But only if you’re okay with it, of course.”

He could, and should, say no.

Ryou’s playing with fire here and they both know it.

He’s so earnest in his request. He wants them to get along so badly. 

He regrets saying yes the second the word is out of his mouth, but he’s too stubborn to take it back.

“Thank you!” Ryou grabs his face and kisses him. “I’ll send Izono to pick him up. Meet us in the living room!”

He struts out of the room with a bounce in his step.

One of these days, Seto’s going to learn how to say no to him.

He finishes the last couple of emails in twenty minutes and stares at the screen for the last ten while he tries to gather his resolve. They usually spend a whole day play testing; they do their best to give Yugi the best and most detailed feedback possible. In this case, he can probably get away with a couple playthroughs before making an exit since the other two can keep going without him.

He starts a countdown in his mind - three hours is how long he expects to have to deal with this. He can handle it. If he can handle crying employees and pompous shareholders, he can handle a thief turned baker. Who is probably still a thief.

The laptop screen goes dark.

They’re waiting for him in the living room. The box containing the game is on the coffee table and they’re kneeling around it with cushions for support. They have a gaming room where they gather when friends are over, but he and Ryou play here when it’s just the two of them. Looks like Bakura’s encroaching on this too. He shoves down the bitterness and takes his seat.

Bakura offers him a nod in greeting and a casual, “Hey.”

“Hello.”

He’s handed a wrapped baked good.

After all these weeks, it’s become clear to him that Bakura’s also trying. He doesn’t want Seto asking Ryou to cut off contact with him and believes earning his friendship will prevent it. His ease and indifference to Seto’s struggle sparks his annoyance, which, much like everything else to do with Bakura, is tucked away.

“I’m so excited! Kura, this one’s inspired by a Monster World campaign I ran a couple Halloweens ago where I had everyone trapped in a haunted aquarium.”

“Why an aquarium?”

“I finally got Katsuya to watch Jaws a few weeks before the game.” His grin is smug, not unlike the one Seto often sports.

“Heh. Nice.”

“He tried to fight his fear by fighting the ghost shark. His poor barbarian got ripped to shreds,” Ryou says with a sad shake of his head.

“Not even I survived that one,” Seto adds, his tone laced with pride.

“Everyone gave me the okay to be brutal. Not my fault you all thought punching a ghost was going to work.”

“I gotta get in on your next game and show these peasants how it’s done.”

“My shark would have gobbled up your tiny thief in one bite.”

“Try me, bitch.”

“Okay,” Seto cuts in, more sharply than necessary. Ryou’s not offended, he hadn’t reacted at all to the derogatory name, so Seto keeps himself from snapping back. “Let’s get started.”

“Let’s!” Ryou agrees with a happy clap.

He grabs the box and slowly unpacks it. Bakura is trying to meet his enthusiasm, but Ryou’s simply on a different level and neither of the other two can keep up. They watch him with similar fond expressions.

Seto’s used to the process, but Ryou talks through it for Bakura’s sake. They check all the contents, read the rule book front to back, and only then do they start playing.

He’s annoyed when he realizes that Bakura is actually the perfect addition to their team. In terms of play testing, anyways.

Ryou has an eye for design, inspecting every small detail of every item. He’ll notice if there’s inconsistencies or flaws in the art or the fabrication itself, he looks for the little things that could use improvement, and offers useful constructive feedback that Yugi always implements. Seto focuses more on the game aspects, noting down simple grammar mistakes, where the rules might be unclear to a first time player, and where certain mechanics can get confusing.

Bakura is a terrible cheater and after Ryou tells him off for trying to swipe a piece, he shifts his aim instead to playing the game exactly by the rules and exploiting any weak point or loophole he can find. Which is a lot - it’s his specialty after all.

Somehow he manages to find a wonky mechanic and abuses it up to the end, breaking the game entirely. He’s supposed to have five cards in his hand, and yet he has seventeen and it’s all within the rules. Everything’s a mess and they have to start over.

There are a lot of notes, more than they usually send over, and Yugi will appreciate a cheater’s perspective. Bakura even offers suggestions to fix wording or add a line here or there to lock up any loose ends that a skilled cheater can exploit.

Between the three of them, they have a well rounded view of the game.

As time goes on, his annoyance only continues to grow. Irritation simmers in his chest on the verge of boiling over and ruining everything.

The worst is knowing this is happening - every time he opens his mouth he knows something mean, borderline cruel, is going to come out - but he can’t stop it.

Ryou’s attempts to defuse the bomb that is his temper are tried and true; a soft tone, a hard stare, a hand on his for physical comfort. They’ve always worked in the past, but, maybe because a part of him considers Ryou part of the problem, none of it works this time. It makes whatever he says next even colder and harsher.

His terrible behaviour merits a verbal reprimand, but Ryou knows that will set off his defensive nature and only further incite his cruelty. They hardly ever get into arguments, but when they do, Ryou steps away from the situation to give him time to calm himself before returning for an adult conversation. Ryou isn’t the type to get angry; he’s an expert in handling other people’s temper without causing himself emotional distress.

Apparently that might have come from dealing with Bakura for so many years.

Bakura, much like Seto, fights aggression with aggression. His initial cheer, somewhat exaggerated for Ryou’s sake but still real, steadily vanishes. His eyes grow cold. He bares his teeth and snaps back with words meant to hurt. His muscles coil tightly like a snake ready for the pounce.

“Maybe we should try this again another time,” Ryou suggests, but his tone isn’t assertive enough to cut through the tension. He needs to talk to them both, separately, but he’s torn and a little lost in how to take charge.

“Maybe it wasn’t a great idea to invite someone who only knows how to cheat his way to victory. Some two-bit thief wouldn’t know anything about doing things honourably, would he?” Seto’s words are pure venom.

Bakura pounces. He leaps over the table with the same athleticism he’s used in the past to jump over a pit of spikes. His hands curl in Seto’s collar and he falls to his back with Bakura on top of him. There are no punches thrown yet, and Seto doesn’t immediately retaliate.

“What the fuck is your problem, huh?!” Bakura snarls in his face.

“Please-” Ryou’s plea is ignored.

“You got the guy, Kaiba, you don’t get to act like some jealous asshole! I lost! I’m the one who lost! I’m the one the gods keep fucking over at every turn! You don’t have the right to look at me like I’m the dirt under your shoe, you fucking bastard! Why do you get to be angry, huh? Cause I’m alive? You think this is all a fucking walk in the park for me? You goddamned asshole, you fucking-” 

Bakura’s shaking him and shouting, somewhere between expletives he starts crying from rage. Seto sees a hand land on his shoulder, and Bakura climbs off of him. It’s a gentle touch, because it’s Ryou, and Bakura goes willingly.

He wipes harshly at his eyes and sniffs in disdain, “I’m out of here.” He knocks Ryou’s hand away and stalks out of the room.

Ryou glances between his retreating back and Seto sitting up on the floor. Seto glares at his feet.

“I’ll be right back.” He chases after Bakura. Figures.

No, that’s not right. His compassionate husband is going to offer to have someone drive Bakura home and maybe say a few kind things to sooth his wounded pride. Ryou knows Seto’s not going anywhere, it’s reasonable for him to go after their guest.

As he’s learned over the past few weeks, using logic doesn’t do anything to weaken the swell of darkness in his heart.

With a heavy sigh he turns to the game. The pieces are scattered. He carefully picks them up and works to put everything away.

He doesn’t know what he’s feeling anymore. He’d spent a large portion of his adolescence proudly proclaiming he had no heart, and nearly a decade of unconditional love has flipped that on its head, and yet he’s back in the shoes of a boy coldly determined to survive no matter the odds. 

Where do they go from here?

Ryou returns in a couple of minutes. Seto doesn’t look his way and focuses intently on his hands as they organize the game items. With slow, gentle steps Ryou walks to his side and kneels down. He’s close enough that their arms brush together, but he doesn’t curl in closer as he normally would.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been mean like that.”

Seto stays silent. It’s true. He’s mellowed with age, certainly, but has also learned to use words that are clever, rather than just insulting, and he doesn’t dislike people the way he used to. Something Ryou recognizes.

“Why do you hate him so much?” It’s not an accusation, and it’s asked with the utmost sincerity.

“I don’t,” he admits. He stops putting things in the box and fiddles with a stack of cards to keep his hands busy. If only it was his deck, and he could look at the familiar faces of his monsters to help orient himself. “I look at him and I see…”

Ryou waits; calmly and patiently. He leans in closer to him until their arms are more firmly pressed together.

“He’s someone that you love. When I look at him, I try to see what you see in him, and… I can see why. And… I wonder - why would you ever choose me, if he’s an option?”

“There’s no choice, Seto. I’m not making any choices. You’re it for me. I…” His frustration slips through in the tenseness of his words, though he tries to hide it.

“But the question remains… why? While I’ve known you longer, he knows you more deeply. You’ve told me everything, but he was in your head, there’s no competition there. He’s more laid back than I am, more relaxed and easygoing. He’d be as devoted to you as I am, but he’d have more time for you. You share morals and beliefs. You enjoy the same things. He loves you, and I suspect it’s as much as I do. If we’re checking boxes, he has more to offer you than I do. I’m difficult. I work too much. I’ve never been able to like those horror movies you love so much. I have money, but I know how little that means to you.”

He fades to silence. He has an entire pros and cons board in his head that he’s been steadily working at over time, and today cemented the fact that it’s more one-sided than he’s ready to deal with.

“You are… so smart, but sometimes you’re so… so stupid.”

Seto warily glances at him and startles when he finds his face streaked with tears. Their eyes meet and Ryou’s are filled with anguish.

“Do you think I’m a fool?”

“No, of course not-” he defends.

“Then you have no right to suggest that you’re anything less than exactly what I want! Stop trying to use graphs or math to tell me how I’m supposed to feel! You want me to make a choice? Fine! I choose you, Seto. That’s my decision. I choose you. I want you. Stop treating our relationship like it’s something I’d be willing to toss out because you think something better’s come along. That’s not how this works! I… I don’t even know what to say anymore.”

Seto’s hands draw in closer to his body and he stares at them. He’s never felt so lost.

Ryou sniffles, wipes his face as best as he can with his sleeve, then let’s out a soft sigh. He lifts Seto’s arm and tucks himself beneath it, then wraps his arms around his waist. Seto holds him close and squeezes his eyes shut. 

They breath together for a minute. 

Ryou stops crying. He spins the ring on his finger, a symbol of their love and relationship, and rebuilds his resolve. He understands his husband, he knows his brain better than anyone. He can navigate this; they can find a solution.

“I’m sorry you’ve been going through all this, my love, and I’m sorry that I’ve had such a hard time understanding how you’ve been feeling. I think I get it now. I can’t say I’d be feeling all that great if I was in your shoes either. I’m going to stop trying to get you two to be friends, and I’m going to cut down how much time I spend with him too. If… if you want me to cut ties completely, I understand. He’s in a better place now, he’ll be alright without me.”

His heart aches at the thought of it, and the words pour out from a dry mouth, but he makes himself push forward. He’ll do whatever must be done to fix this. Bakura won’t be happy, but he’ll accept it. Ryou has to prioritize his husband.

“You’ll end up resenting me.”

“I wouldn’t,” he denies with conviction.

Seto takes Ryou’s hand, kisses it, and holds it to his chest. He says, bluntly and confidently, “You would, and I’m not going to ask you to do that. I realize that all these issues are in my head, and I have to sort it out on my own-”

“You never have to do anything on your own. That’s what I’m for, remember? We’re a team.”

“He’s your best friend.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Ryou.”

“Seto,” he says, copying his tone.

He tilts his head down to kiss away his cheeky grin. He loves using silly to diffuse tension, and it almost always succeeds.

“As I was saying-” Seto says pointedly, “aside from me, he’s your best friend. I’m not going to take that away from you.”

“If it makes you feel better-”

“It won’t. I’ll feel guilty, if anything. He means a lot to you, and I need to learn to deal with that. But I think you’re right, in part. I can’t be around him. Not now. Maybe one day, but… not now.”

“Okay. We’ll do that, then. And can you do something for me?”

“Anything.” No hesitation.

“Whatever list you’ve got in your head, hit control F4 and get rid of it. No more comparing yourself to him, okay? Stop making some kind of algorithm to determine what would make my perfect husband; if I wanted that I’d have asked you to make me a robot. I love you, exactly as you are. I wouldn’t change anything about you - not even the fact that your opinion on horror movies is wrong.”

“You meant alt F4.”

“And despite you needing to correct me, I still love you.”

“I’ll delete the mental list and I’ll try not to make a new one.”

“Thank you.” Ryou kisses the underside of his chin. “Do you really think I’ve never wondered why you’re with me instead of some gorgeous genius?”

“You just described yourself.”

“You’ve seen me poke myself in the eye with a pencil, Seto. Calling me a genius would be an insult to you and all genius’ out there.”

“Then gorgeous and smart will do.”

“I’m being serious.” He pulls back to look him in the eye. “You think I never had my doubts? You’re Seto-Fucking-Kaiba. Not that I’ve ever believed that you’re cool - like you pretend you are - but you’re still way out of my league. I think it’s normal to wonder why someone chooses you over others, but I don’t think you’re supposed to dwell on it the way you’ve been doing.”

“I hadn’t considered that you’ve felt the same.”

It catches him off guard. Why would Ryou have ever thought that Seto would rather have someone else? There’s never been anyone else. It’s ridiculous.

Maybe that’s how Ryou views the way Seto’s been comparing himself to Bakura - ridiculous.

Something to mull over later.

“You chose to be with me, just like I’m choosing to be with you. When you start to have doubts, try to focus on that instead.”

“Okay. I will. Keep being patient with me? I’m going to get through this, I promise. I… I don’t want to lose you. Especially not because of this.”

“I’m an expert at being patient, darling. I still duel you, don’t I?”

Seto chuckles, “You do.”

“There you have it. And if we need to, we’ll-”

“We’ll circle back to it?” Seto finishes for him.

“Exactly.”

Eventually the game is packed up and set aside with the two of them agreeing to come back to it another day. Rather than with a game, what’s left of the day is spent cuddled together on the couch watching movies, basking in the comfort of each other to smooth over the tension from having a difficult discussion. 

They hope things will improve, but time will be the judge.

Chapter Text

There’s no bell above the door, but his entry is still dramatic enough to draw all eyes to him. Just how he likes it.

Unfortunately the tiny shopfront only has two people, and neither of them are pleased to see him. The young woman at the counter eyes him warily, and the somewhat older woman that steps out from the back with a tray of fresh goods narrows her eyes at him. That one must be the boss. He saunters up with a bright grin, undaunted by their immediate distrust - he’s used to that.

“Hey. I’m here for Bakura. Will he be out soon?”

“Of course you’re here for him,” she mutters under her breath. “Give him a second, he’s grabbing his things. No loitering if you’re not buying - you can wait for him outside.”

He lifts his hands defensively and steps in front of the cash register where the younger woman is still watching him like he’s planning trouble.

“A coffee please. Two sugars.” She rings him up and hands over his drink without a word. “Thanks! I’ll be over there.”

He tilts his head towards an open table. The boss doesn’t pause her restocking, but her gaze follows him along.

There’s nothing he can do about the reactions. The flawless Japanese doesn’t hide the fact that he’s a foreigner, which wouldn’t be such a problem if he didn’t have a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm, a high heeled leather boots and jacket combo, and a tattoo peeking out from beneath his shirt’s neckline. He’s been labelled his whole life, at least in this it’s a label of his own making, and one that isn’t entirely untrue.

The man he’s waiting for shoves through the back door and stills in his jaunty goodbye to the other two when he sees his boss’s raised brow. He follows her gaze over to him and he waggles his fingers in greeting.

“Hey, buddy!”

His expression shifts to resigned annoyance.

“Ugh. You.” He groans and faces the woman, “We’ll go somewhere else.”

“You do that.”

Bakura stops by his table and crosses his arms, “I assume you’re not here just to say hi?”

“Nope. I’m here to have a nice long chat with my dear friend Bakura.”

He releases an exasperated huff, “Fine. Come on. My place isn’t far.”

“I didn’t bring my spare helmet.”

“Like I’d trust you with my life. We’re walking, you lazy bitch. Let’s go.”

“Why didn’t anyone warn me your attitude is as shitty as ever? I wouldn’t have bothered coming all this way.”

Despite the words he exits the bakery at Bakura’s prompting and follows him down the road, bypassing his parked bike.

“I heard you were back in town. Didn’t expect to see your stupid face so soon though.”

“And I’ve been dying to see your stupid face!”

“Any reason you’re bothering me at my workplace?”

“I wanted to catch you before you left. I figured if I came knocking on your door you wouldn’t let me in.”

“I wouldn’t have. Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re back from the dead! That’s pretty wild. But, if we skip the pleasantries, I thought I should check in. Ryou married Kaiba, his bullshit meter isn’t exactly reliable, but… looks like you’re actually demon free.”

“If anyone was going to know I wasn’t, it would have been Ryou.”

“Yeah, but would he have admitted it? Hm? That’s the real question.”

Bakura doesn’t answer that one.

He has tried to distance himself from hatred since being granted a final life. When darkness fills his lungs, memories of his wrongdoings bubble to the surface. Vengeance and fury have been cast off like shackles that have held him back for three thousand years; love has finally been allowed to grow within him. He won’t let hatred fester any longer. Not for Kaiba, who has stolen away the other half of his soul, but who makes him so happy - and not for Marik Ishtar.

He doesn’t hate him. But gods does he not like him.

He’s aware he’s not the teenager he’d been twelve years ago, though still incredibly gorgeous and equally frustrating, but the betrayal will remain a scar on their history.

Fine, yes, they’d both been in the wrong back then, and Marik came to that realization quicker, and it would have been just as likely for Bakura to betray Marik if the situation had called for it, but… Fuck him anyway.

Marik’s in town earlier than was initially planned. He’d had a flight booked for mid September, but after Ryou’s call telling him about Bakura’s return, he’d shuffled around his plans to be here by the third week of August. Ryou had told (warned) Bakura of this, and he’d even told him when Marik landed - he and Seto went to pick him up at the airport yesterday and he’s staying at their place for the next four weeks. Yet he hadn’t expected to be face to face with him this soon.

“As you said, I’m demon free. Are you still going to follow me to my hotel, or can I convince you to fuck off now?”

“Aren’t you in a good mood? Sucks for you, but you’re my entertainment for the day, so I’m coming with you. And sadly for you, I mean that in a non-sexy way. I don’t fool around with my friend’s exes.”

“As if you have any friends,” he bites back and frowns when Marik offers him a grin.

“Not going to deny it?”

“Deny wha-… ah.”

“Don’t worry, Ryou didn’t tell me anything. I figured it out on my own. No one gets that depressed when their evil other half vanishes, unless they’re into that evil other half.”

He can see Marik watching him out of the corner of his eye. He wants a reaction and intends to use it to judge him. Bakura ignores him entirely and points in the distance.

“There, that’s the hotel. I have about a hundred yen in my pocket. You can have it if you go away right now.”

“You realize I’m familiar with the currency and I know that that’s not a lot, right?”

“It was worth a shot.”

“Also, just because I shut down my criminal enterprise doesn’t mean I closed the bank accounts.”

“Then you won’t mind me keeping this.” Bakura holds up a black and glittery wallet.

“Hey!”

Bakura lets him snatch it back and tuck it in his back pocket - the same place he’d stolen it from. He’s a fool for thinking Bakura’s not going to pull the same trick twice, but he’ll wait to time it just right.

He leads them into the hotel, past the front desk, and up the elevator. He’s on the twenty-seventh floor. Ridiculously high, but it does offer a very nice view of the city. 

Once through the door, he kicks off his shoes and tosses his coat on the bed. It’s a gorgeous room, on the luxurious side but not so much that it makes his stomach curl with disgust. The bathroom is tucked in a corner, jacuzzi tub included, and the rest of the space is a full open concept room. A king-sized bed faces a large TV hung on the wall. There’s a mini fridge and a small kitchenette, both he’s made little use of in his time here. Further in the room there’s some counter space, a table with a few chairs around it, a couch and a second smaller TV in a corner, and a set of patio doors that lead to a balcony equipped with a few bits of outside furniture.

Bakura keeps all of his things in the dresser and out of sight, leaving the rest of the room clean thanks to the hotel’s staff. It’s fun being spoiled.

“You’ve been to Japan way too often not to know you have to take off your shoes,” Bakura chides and glances pointedly at Marik’s boots that have stepped off the door mat.

“Look at these things! If I’m taking them off now, they’re not coming back on today. Your call.”

They reach slightly below the knee and there are straps and clips and buckles; he can’t figure out which part is actually keeping the boot in place.

“Fine. It’ll be easier to get you out of here that way.”

“So glad we have an understanding,” Marik says, sickly sweet. He drops his coat and helmet next to Bakura’s on the bed and goes straight for the phone on the bedside table. “We’re having lunch. The room’s on Kaiba’s card, right?”

“Yeah. Go wild.”

Marik’s grin tells him that’s the plan.

He plops down in one of the chairs and listens as Marik orders for both of them. They’ve got sushi, pork cutlets, steak, BBQ chicken, and rice on the way, along with two of the hotel’s most expensive bottles of champagne and orange juice. Someone has luxurious taste and a large appetite.

“What’s with the orange juice?” he asks once Marik sets the phone down.

“If you drink champagne at this hour, you’re an alcoholic, but if it’s mimosas, it’s just brunch.”

“If you say so. I thought you didn’t eat meat? You threw a huge hissy fit when I made Ryou eat steak during the tournament.”

“We didn’t have meat in the tombs, so it took a while to get used to it. I like most things nowadays, but I love seafood the most; nothing beats the fresh shit you guys have over here.” Marik takes a seat opposite him at the table.

As a thief, silence is essential. Being quiet in a crowded place, sneaking around in the dark without so much as a whisper, spending hours staking out a potential target… and years and years alone, unable to speak directly to his destined host. As a reformed thief turned baker and sugar baby (without the sugar), this silence echoes as loudly as nails on a chalkboard.

“What do you want from me, Marik?!” he snaps.

His complete indifference is triggering some increasingly violent impulses in him, but he restrains himself. Ryou likes this guy for whatever reason. He can’t hurt him. He shouldn’t, anyway.

“I want to talk about Ryou.” He props his chin up on his hand and grins, “Tell me, are you still into him?”

“Obviously. Why else would I have been kicked out? Kaiba doesn’t want me near him.”

“Is he why you came back?”

“Obviously,” he repeats. “I didn’t come back for your dumb ass.”

“Why are you so bitchy?”

“Says the bitch.”

“Bite me.”

“You wish.”

“Alright, alright, come on. I’m just trying to understand the situation here.”

“There’s nothing to understand. I came back for Ryou, but he’d already married Kaiba so I’m just… hanging out. Not much else to it.”

“That must have sucked. Coming back from the dead for a guy who married someone else.”

“Are you done asking stupid questions?”

“That wasn’t a question, it was an observation. Now this is a question - how did you come back? That’s all everyone keeps saying - ‘he came back’ - but nothing else. Did you make a deal with someone? Did you do some sort of spell? If someone’s in danger because you were thinking with your dick-”

“I didn’t make any deals,” he cuts him short. “No deals, no demons, nothing like that. It was the gods. I did some trials, and here I am. If you want to know more, pray to your gods. I sure as shit don’t get why any of this is happening.”

“Tone down the one man pity party, alright? You got a second chance at life after trying to destroy the world - that’s pretty great if you ask me. And you should, because I had a similar experience, in case you forgot. Maybe you don’t have the guy, but you have this cool place with unlimited food on Kaiba’s dime, and I bet the whole friendship brigade has been trying to be all buddy-buddy with you, and now you have a sweet gig baking delicious treats every day. Sounds pretty good to me.”

Bakura pulls a disgruntled face, but it’s hard to refute. 

It feels exceptionally pathetic to say he’s miserable over a guy, especially when so many aspects of his life are being handled for him or he’s being given great opportunities. Nonetheless, he finds the pain point and presses it.

“Can’t say anyone’s being buddy-buddy with me. Though I don’t blame them for keeping their distance.”

“Because you’re an intolerable grouch and an asshole with a terrible personality?”

“Are you really just here to be mean to me? If you’re trying to be helpful, you’re failing.”

“I would never claim to be helpful. I did mostly come here to make sure there was no demonic stuff going on.” There’s a very timely knock on the door. “But I’m sticking around for the food.”

With a bounce in his step he let’s in the employee who sets down the various dishes, an ice bucket, two bottles of champagne, a jug of fresh orange juice, and the necessary utensils. He goes to light a candle, as if judging this to be a romantic rendez-vous, but Bakura shoos him off with a hefty tip. That’s the last thing he wants anyone to think this is.

Marik gracefully mixes them mimosas from the two different beverages in the supplied champagne flutes. Bakura immediately chugs it down and holds the glass out for a refill. Marik complies with a roll of his eyes. The two settle in to eat, but it’s far from the quiet and comfortable affair of the Kaiba Estate.

“Guess I should ask, am I in danger of your psycho other half, or is he still in the Shadow Realm?” he speaks around a mouthful of chicken.

Marik politely dabs his mouth clean before answering, “No, you’re not in any danger, but he is back. I got myself a fancy diagnosis to explain what’s wrong with me - the doctor calls it Dissociative Identity Disorder,  you probably know it as having a split personality. The shadow magic made things a little…” he makes a vague wavy gesture with his hand, “but now that that’s gone, he’s a lot more relaxed. He still hates your guts, but we’re on good terms now, so he’s not going to do anything.”

“Wait, you’re friends with that thing?” Bakura narrows his eyes and observes his face, but there’s no signs of the darkness he’d duelled all those years ago. Marik’s entirely calm, and entirely nonthreatening. 

“I don’t know if I’d say ‘friends’, but we’ve learned to co-exist. Like it or not, he’s a part of me, and he’s the part that handled most of the emotional labour for us. We may have some differences, but I’m grateful for what he tried to do for me. It’s a whole… thing, and I don’t feel like giving you a lesson on mental health conditions right now, so how about we leave it at that?”

“Sounds as shady as me coming back from the dead, but I honestly don’t care enough.” He tears off a huge chunk of steak with his teeth and drops the remains down with a splatter. He relishes the look of disgust that predictably crosses Marik’s face.

He hadn’t been scared of Marik’s darker half; he hadn’t had the capacity to feel fear at all, but there’s relief at knowing he’s on their side now. Not that he and Marik are on the same side. Are there sides anymore? He’s spent too long waging war, he doesn’t remember what it’s like to not need sides.

“Do you work at the bakery full-time?” Marik asks.

Somehow they shift into small talk. 

He genuinely loves his job. It’s difficult and demanding, but he’s good at it. He’s beginning to understand Ryou’s love of making and giving, because seeing his face when he bites into a fresh baked good makes every second spent rolling dough worth it. He has plenty to share in that department, and though he can’t determine if he cares or not, he asks what Marik’s been up to.

“My people are above ground and have all the resources they need. I reached my goal so…” he shrugs, “I’m mostly having fun at this point. I travel a lot. Date a little, flirt a lot, haven’t found anyone worth settling for. Took a couple of college courses and hated all of it, so I gave it up. Hm… that’s about it, really. I know that doesn’t sound interesting compared to shadow games and evil gods and all that, but I’m happy with how my life’s going.”

“Sounds like you have it made. Why do you still come all this way to hang out with a bunch of nerds?”

“Don’t act like you’re not also weirdly enamoured by them.”

“How dare you-!”

They share a laugh. Marik empties the first bottle of champagne into Bakura’s glass and pops open the second to refresh his own.

“Yugi’s just got this charm to him, I don’t know. Me and Ryou got along really great almost from the start, but I figured I’d lose touch with the rest of them, but they just won’t let go. Clingy dorks.” Every word is dripping in fondness. Marik sets the bottle down with a thud and smiles brightly, “Speaking of! Let me call Yugi, see what he’s up to.”

“What? No! Why?!”

Marik’s phone is out and ringing before he can finish his protest.

“Hello?” Yugi’s pleasant greeting comes from the phone’s speaker.

“Hi, Yugi!”

Bakura clears up the table while listening to him make plans, almost too late realizing that those plans are for here. After moving aside the empty dishes and wiping down the table, he drops face first on the bed and waits out the call. He can’t shout at him to stop, Yugi would hear and what if he told Ryou that he’d been a jerk? He’s on thin ice already.

“That sounds great! We’ll see you in a bit. Bye, Yugi!” The call is disconnected. Marik heads towards the phone in the room. “They’ll be here in fifteen minutes. I’m getting more champagne. Want anything?”

“No... but fuck the orange juice.”

Marik’s laugh is far too pleased.

Chapter Text

Marik has to head downstairs to grab their guests, and comes back with two people in tow; Yugi and Katsuya. With a game in hand and only one of them with a wide smile.

Bakura tops off his glass.

“Hi, Bakura!” Yugi greets happily.

“Hey,” he returns because he feels he has to. Katsuya’s greeting is similarly unenthusiastic.

“Come in, come in. We have champagne! And now we have a game. What did you bring?” Marik, the pseudo host in Bakura’s stead, ushers them inside. He has somehow acquired two more champagne flutes and fills them for their guests.

“I thought Bakura might like this one.” Yugi holds up the front of the box for him to see the cover, and it successfully intrigues him. Darn him. “It’s called ‘Break the Safe’; it’s co-op, and you have to collect the keys to open the safe in a set amount of time.”

“Sounds fun. Probably not as fun as robbing real tombs, but there aren’t many of those around here anyway.” Marik grins and drops in his seat with an unnecessary flourish.

He’s trying to keep things light, especially with two of the four of them not being in the best of moods, and Bakura’s annoyed that it’s working. 

“Don’t you guys have work or something?” It’s nearing one o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon.

“I have staff tending the shop, they’ll call if there’s an emergency, and Katsuya’s off today. We’re all yours!” Yugi tugs Katsuya along and they join them around the table. The game is set in the center.

Bakura hopes this game goes a lot better than the one with Seto and Ryou the other day. He and Ryou didn’t discuss it in detail afterwards, but it’s obvious he’s being held even more at a distance than before. He knew laying hands on the husband would put him in the dog house, but he hadn’t expected such a nuclear shut down. 

Ryou still calls him once a day to check in, and they’ve hung out a couple of times since, but the shift is obvious. When he tries to broach the subject, Ryou guiltily shuts it down. He gets there’s little to say about it, it’s obviously Kaiba that has the issue, but he wishes the guy had the balls to tell it to his face instead of hiding behind Ryou.

Hopefully this doesn’t end with him punching Katsuya. Or, gods forbid, Yugi. Not even Ryou would forgive that one.

He could probably get away with punching Marik. Everyone knows he’s a shit disturber, Ryou would understand that he deserved it.

With his hand clutching the champagne flute for dear life, the board is set up, the rules explained, and the timer begins.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but… it’s fun.

When the round is done - objective complete before the timer is over - they reset for round two. As they roll the dice, as they move their characters along, as the minutes trickle on, the mood turns pleasant. Marik and Yugi soften their overly cheery dispositions as they no longer need to counter the negativity around them. Katsuya loosens up and starts teasing Bakura and cracking jokes with him like he’s part of the group.

Bakura begins responding in kind, meeting their positive energy with some of his own.

There’s a second where he thinks about Ryou, how he would love to play this, and he shelves that to focus on the present. He can sit here with drinks and food and good company and not long for anything else. 

It’s so much fun he doesn’t even think to cheat.

Playing the game honestly, no matter if they win or lose, is rewarding. That should be obvious, but when so much of his life has been spent struggling to win even when expertly cheating, it comes as a surprise. Maybe the fun is in the people, and not the winning -

- Is what Yugi says when they lose, and Bakura doesn’t feel the need to make a snide comment about it, because, deep down, he’s starting to agree.

Being human - entirely human - has made him soft.

Being human has made him see how that’s not so horrible.

Marik orders more champagne and more food. The counters are overflowing with dirty dishes, empty bottles, and random discarded game pieces. Everyone is loud and boisterous, laughing at jokes that aren’t actually good but that get them going anyway. It’s the most lived in his hotel room has looked since he moved in.

It is also the drunkest he’s gotten in this new lifetime.

They’re all somewhat inebriated, though Katsuya is carefully reserved about his intake and no one pushes him on it. Bakura is by far the worst of them. He’s had a bit of wine here and there with dinner, or fun cocktails when he’d go out somewhere with Ryou, but this is the most he’s indulged since his return. This champagne tastes a lot better than the beer and wine of his time, that’s for sure.

He’s happily tipsy, words stringing together increasingly clumsily as he talks more about Ryou than a ‘friend’ reasonably should. There’s more chatting and storytelling than gaming as time goes on from all of them, and they get looser with the rules of the game. They don’t even start the timer on the last attempt.

Somewhere in the middle of Yugi’s story of an irate customer, he lays his head on the table much to the amusement of the others. He insists he’s closing his eyes for just a second, but the booze and his four a.m. wake up time catch up with him all at once and he’s snoozing away almost instantly.

Yugi rests his chin in his hand and stares at him fondly, “Looks like he’s out.”

“Lightweight,” Katsuya teases.

“Marik, can I ask you something?” Yugi asks.

“Of course.” He’s pink-cheeked and wobbly in his seat, but he remains bright-eyed and alert.

“I’ve always wondered, and after the way he’s been talking about him today it’s hard not to see it that way… Do you know if he and Ryou were ever… you know…?”

“An item?” Marik supplies.

“Exactly.”

“What?! No way!” Katsuya exclaims and glances between them in bewilderment. “Ryou would never cheat on Kaiba!”

“No, no, not now. He’s asking about before.”

“What, like when he was in the Ring?”

“Yeah,” Yugi confirms. “I know nothing has happened since he came back, Ryou wouldn’t do that, but it kind of sounds like this guy’s in love with Ryou, and after my duel with Atem, Ryou seemed… off. He never said anything about it to me, but I always had a sense there was something. And Ryou didn’t hesitate to help him, and I know he’s that kind of person, but if he hated the guy he probably would have been more hands off about it, right?”

“You’re right on the money,” Marik says. “I had the same suspicions and this one confirmed it for me. I don’t know the specifics, but they were in some sort of relationship.”

“It must have been really difficult for him to find out Ryou was married,” Yugi says, tone laden with sympathy, “and this whole thing must be confusing for Ryou, too. Oh, and poor Seto! I can’t imagine he doesn’t know about all this. He’s been a bit quiet lately, that must be it…”

“Wait, wait, wait - how do you date a guy that lives in your head? And why would Ryou have been into this guy? He tried to kill us! And him! That’s when he was half demon! … Oh…” Katsuya sighs in exaggerated disappointment, “Why is Ryou such a freak?”

Marik snickers, “He’s got a type.”

“Jerks?”

“Ryou knows how to see the good in people,” Yugi counters.

“Guess someone’s gotta,” Katsuya says.

“On that note, sort of… Not really. I have a favour to ask.” Marik’s expression shifts to serious, and the couple’s giggling comes to a halt.

“Of course! What is it?” Yugi asks.

“I’m convinced the guy’s genuine. He’s still an asshole, but he’s not evil, you know? I’m wondering if you could work some of your friendship voodoo magic on him. His only real connection is Ryou and, as we just discussed, that’s complicated. The guy needs other friends. I’m going to hang out with him while I’m here, but I think it would be good for him if you guys could adopt him into your group like you always do with feral strays.”

“Are you including yourself in that?” Katsuya asks.

“No comment.”

“We’d be happy to be his friend,” Yugi says. “I was worried about overstepping, but you think we should be more pushy about it?”

“He’s stubborn. He’s not going to reach out himself.”

“Okay, I think we can do that. Thanks for telling us, Marik. He’s lucky to have you as a friend.”

“Ugh, that’s a horrible thing to say. Consider us more like… frenemies. Yes. Let’s go with that.”

“Okay,” Yugi agrees but the wide smile on his face betrays his amusement.

“Come on, you day drunks. Let’s pack up and get going. We’ll leave him to his nap and we can grab his number later. Marik, you need a ride?” Katsuya stands and stretches, a few cracks making the other two wince.

“Nah, I’ll stick around. I told Ryou I’d keep him company for the day.”

“You’re such a good friend!” Yugi exclaims with a happy giggle that grows louder as Marik’s nose scrunches in distaste.

Katsuya rounds the table and shakes Bakura’s shoulder to wake him, “Take your nap to the bed, buddy, come on.”

Bakura’s eyes tiredly blink open and he snaps his teeth in the direction of the hand, but his movements are sluggish and half-hearted. He’s tired and safe, no instincts within him stir in self-defense - but he is annoyed.

“G’way.”

“Up you get.” Katsuya grabs his arm and helps him to his feet. They shuffle to the bed, Bakura mumbling nonsense the whole way, and he drops him on top of the covers. He spreads out and is almost immediately asleep again. “Wow, he’s down bad. Make sure to keep an eye on him.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Marik says.

He helps Yugi pack up the game. Once he stands and the champagne hits all at once, Yugi has to lean on Katsuya for support. They carefully make their way out of the room with a few final farewells.

“Thanks for coming, see you guys later!” Marik shuts the door behind them.

He releases a relieved sigh. That went well. The room’s a bit of a mess and he hadn’t expected to drink that much this early in the day, but he’s on vacation - who cares?

He truly believes that Bakura is demon-free, and while he’s not ‘kind’ or ‘good’, things Marik wouldn’t claim to be either, he's obviously completely enamoured with his former host. He’ll be on his best behaviour if only to keep him happy, and maybe in the long run he’ll let more people into his life. If Yugi’s going to reach out to him with his weird friendship magic powers, it won’t take long before his social circle expands. 

For a brand new human being, he’s not doing half bad. He even got a job all on his own, making baked goods of all things. When Ryou had told him Bakura got a job, he’d thought it would be as a locksmith. Or as a fighter in some underground fight club. His expectations had been a lot lower than ‘baker’. 

He lays down on the sofa, stretching out and getting comfortable in preparation for his own nap. Jet lag is a bitch, and he’s only getting older.

In those hazy minutes between wakefulness and sleep, he has to wonder - is there a solution to Bakura’s conundrum? He wants the guy, but is there a way to have him without breaking hearts in the process?

Marik, with a dozen years of therapy under his belt and who has met people all over the world with a wide variety of relationships with people and sex and sexuality, comes to the conclusion ‘maybe’. There may be a solution here, and he’s likely the only one with the guts to bring it up. Who is Marik Ishtar, if not gutsy? 

-o-o-o-

“Seto Kaiba! How are you, you giant nerd?”

“I’m as fine as I was the last time you saw me. Which was an hour ago, if you’ve forgotten.”

It’s taken him almost two weeks to get him alone. For the richest guy in the world, he’s not a lot of fun. His time is spent split between his work and Ryou... and that’s it. With a bit of string pulling behind the scenes, Marik creates an opening for himself when one refused to appear organically. He convinced Ryou that Bakura’s been mopey about not getting to see him much lately, and convinced Bakura that Ryou’s been looking for a chance to hang out with him, and they’re now off to lunch.

It was especially satisfying because he didn’t have to lie at all.

In Ryou’s absence, rather than take the free time to relax or hang out with friends - or his guest - Seto is in his office at the Estate.

“There’s no work that’s so important it should occupy your time on a Saturday.”

“Says the freeloader.”

“I have my own money. I just prefer spending yours.”

“I assume you’re bothering me because you want something?”

Seto finally glances away from his laptop to look at him; Marik gives him his best innocent smile. 

He does a quick scope of the room and spots a chair tucked in the corner. He drags it in front of Seto’s desk and sprawls into it. He ignores Seto’s obvious displeasure. He knows not to bother voicing any complaints, it’s not like Marik would listen to them.

“I want to talk about your love triangle.”

With a sigh the laptop is closed.

“I need to start locking the door.”

“You have a situation on your hands, and I’m here to offer some unsolicited advice.”

“There’s no situation.”

“You and Bakura are both in love with Ryou, and Ryou’s in love with both of you. I’d call that a little situation.”

“While I’m sure your intention is to be helpful, I’m going to politely ask you to keep your nose out of my love life. That’s the only thing I have to say on the subject.”

Seto attempts to re-open the laptop as a silent dismissal, but Marik reaches out and slaps it shut.

“Listen, let me say my piece and I won’t bring it up again. Promise.”

Seto raps his nails against the top of the desk and, after a short pause, releases a resigned sigh. Stubborn knows stubborn, and he’s learned in over a decade of leadership experience that unless he’s calling in security to remove them, sometimes he just has to let people say what they need to say. He leans back in his chair, crosses his arms, and gives him a nod.

“Fine. Make it quick, I have work to do.”

“You’re getting so reasonable in your old age!”

“I’m not above calling security.”

“Back to the topic at hand - your complicated love life. I’ve been sitting on this whole thing since I got here. As you know, I’m a bit of an aficionado of all things sexy.”

“I recall. Your goal to achieve ‘30 in 30 by 30’.”

That’s what Marik has titled his journey to bed 30 men in 30 different countries before he turns 30 years old. No more dreams of pharaoh-hood and world domination, his new goals are much more attainable these days. The other bucket list item he plans to achieve before turning 30 is to go sky diving. That’s to be completed the day before his 30th birthday, because he’s very sure it’s going to kill him and at least he’ll die a winner.

“I’m honoured you remembered. I’m at 27, if you wanted to know.”

“I didn’t.”

“Anyways - it’s quite the interesting predicament you’ve found yourselves in, but I think you guys are going about this the wrong way. There’s a very simple solution here.”

Marik pauses for emphasis. Seto raises a brow but refuses to ask the question Marik’s waiting for.

He pouts and bluntly states, “Have you considered a threesome?”

“Get out.”

Again he reaches for the laptop and again Marik slaps it shut, but this time he does it while laughing, “I’m sorry! I was just kidding! Kind of…”

Seto leans back and Marik slowly follows suit once assured that he’s not getting the boot.

“That was a joke, I know you’re nowhere near fun enough for a threesome, but maybe for this whole issue to be resolved, you all need to start looking at this with a more open mind. I barely believe in love, but I know that what you and Ryou have is the real deal. I don’t think there’s anything that can come between you two. So considering that… would it be such a bad idea if Ryou had a boyfriend on the side?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? You’re married to him. You live together. You have your twice a week boring missionary sex that you pencil into your schedule. If he has a night or two a week with someone else, would that be so horrible? I’m not saying have a fully open relationship, but if you let him see this one guy… Would it actually have such a huge impact on your relationship? Ryou has enough love in his heart for two people, you wouldn’t lose anything by letting him act on it.”

Seto’s rendered speechless - a hard earned feat. He opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out.

“I’m sure this seems like a radical idea to you, but that’s kind of what you’re known for, isn’t it? Maybe be a little radical in your personal life instead of just your professional one for a change.”

Seto’s no longer able to meet his gaze, but Marik can see that it’s not out of discomfort but rather that he’s simply thinking it through. Success.

“It’s called polyamory, and a lot of people have good things to say about it. Do some research and talk to Ryou. At least give it some thought as an option, okay? That’s all I have to say about it... But I still think a threesome would do you good.”

Marik has a handful of fears - darkness, snakes, and heights, but people have always been his playing ground. He’s the thing to be feared by people. When Seto turns the full force of his glare on him, a shiver runs down his spine. Time for a graceful exit.

“I just remembered that I’m supposed to meet up with Honda to take a look at his new bike, so… I’ll be seeing you later. Bye!”

And he’s gone.

Chapter Text

Seto, in times of uncertainty, defaults to his usual method of resolving that uncertainty - research.

He closes his work email and opens the KaibaCorp search engine.

This is a familiar scene.

In the decade since Ryou asked him out for the first time, there have been hundreds of instances where he types out the questions he can’t speak aloud, just as he does now. A first date was the first in a long string of firsts that left him out of his depth and grasping for understanding. He researched the expectations of a first date, a first kiss, sexual acts and general physical intimacy. All the things he might have learned through talking to others, but couldn’t bring himself to do so.

He’s never had a person he could go to for advice; there was no one he could be comfortable opening up to about these insecurities and knowledge gaps. The only person who had ever seen him vulnerable - his little brother - hadn’t yet had the life experiences necessary to be a confidante, and Seto hadn’t wanted to burden him with questions he had no way of answering.

Ryou quickly became the person he could seek out for help. Instead of using a search engine, he learned to talk to Ryou about the things in their relationship that needed communicating, and also about the things outside of it that often confused him. Mostly relating to the etiquette of friendships and friendly social gatherings. (When can they leave a party with their friends without offending them? What is he supposed to say when someone is going through a break up? What is an ‘acceptable’ birthday gift?)

His husband has seen all of his highs and lows, and while he’s grown comfortable with being uncomfortable when opening up, he’s not ready to discuss this particular topic without all the data he can get his hands on at his disposal.

A single word is typed - polyamory - and he hits Enter.

He recognizes sources and which one’s are legitimate, which have less than zero resources behind their claims, and which are opinion based. He starts with the academic papers that have done research into this phenomenon around the world, learns the common terminology, discovers the ways it works and the ways it doesn’t. When he starts running out of reliable sources, he moves on to forums and blog posts describing people’s personal experiences with polyamorous relationships.

He reads everything, absorbing every single word that’s been written on the subject with the mind of a person fuelled by curiousity and desperation.

He creates a new mental list and starts noting down the pros and cons. 

There’s a big, obvious, con - someone else touching his husband. He’s not as possessive with people as he is with things. Ryou is loyal, Seto has complete trust in that, and to him there’s a higher risk of someone stealing his possessions than anyone successfully seducing Ryou and stealing him from him. Not until Bakura’s return, that is. But being ‘less’ possessive doesn’t mean he isn’t at all.

Ryou is his. Partner, lover, husband; everything. Would he be okay with knowing that another person is touching him? The emotional aspect is already over and done with, there’s nothing to be done about Ryou loving Bakura, but letting that extend into the physical?

He thinks back to the last business dinner party he’d attended with Ryou. A woman had been overly flirty and touchy, something that happens at almost every work related event. When Seto had spotted her hand on Ryou’s arm, his chest had burned with anger, but it hadn’t been caused by jealousy. Rather, it was in defence of his partner’s discomfort. He’d wanted her to back off because he knew it was making Ryou uncomfortable. It hadn’t had anything to do with his own feelings on the matter.

Then take it a step further. What if Ryou hadn’t been uncomfortable, or had even wanted it? The visual of simple touches, like the hugs he gives their friends, doesn’t make anything stir in his chest, but it turns unpleasant when he imagines deeper intimacy. 

Take it a step back, and change the visual. What if he pictures Bakura specifically?

Interesting.

His heart and mind have already stitched them together into a package deal. The idea of Bakura being with Ryou physically seems entirely normal. Natural, even. Their souls are one, they’re one and the same and entirely different. Any time he thinks of Ryou, he’ll inevitably end up thinking of Bakura too, and vice versa. He’s always shared Ryou’s heart with a ghost, and sharing his body would hardly be a step further.

Them being together was never the issue, it was that he would lose Ryou in the process. With this solution, he could keep him and give him everything he wants.

Until recently he’s never had an ounce of doubt in the stability of their relationship, and with Ryou’s reassurance that confidence has regained its strength. There’s nothing lacking between them. They satisfy each other’s emotional and physical needs, they’ve established trust and love and have grown from a foundation of communication. Ryou seeing Bakura wouldn’t be because Seto isn’t fulfilling his end of their partnership, but simply because Ryou has enough love for two people. 

He shakes his head to dislodge the mental image of Ryou and Bakura in a rather compromising position, but the heat in his cheeks remains. His imagination has always been incredibly vivid, and in this moment it’s less than unhelpful. 

With that big hurdle resolved, his list of pros and cons quickly becomes lopsided. 

The cons are not egregious either. They’d need to set boundaries. There would need to be a vast amount of proper communication from the three of them at all times in order to ensure they’re always all on the same page. The fear of losing Ryou remains and this might exacerbate it, but that’s a tick in the pro box too, because this is just as likely to help him work through it.

The pros, while not numerous, weigh more than any cons that come to mind. Ryou would be happy. Ryou wouldn’t be alone anymore when Seto has business trips, and their varying work schedules would leave Ryou with company more often. Ryou would have someone to watch his crappy horror movies with. They could play games that require a minimum of three players. If he’s with Bakura, Seto could relax knowing he’s safe with someone who would protect him out of love, rather than for money.

At the bottom of the list, he adds it a second time - it would make Ryou happy.

Before Bakura’s return, he’d already known a lot about him through Ryou’s stories. He’s a survivor of a targeted genocide of his family and neighbours. As a child he made a deal with a demon in order to avenge his family. He’s a skilled thief that makes awful jokes and fails at every turn. He lost his humanity in the past three thousand years trapped in a piece of jewellery, but regained enough to form a bond with Ryou in their final weeks together. He’s the result of suffering and trauma, much like Seto himself.

Over the last few weeks, he’s gotten to know Bakura for himself, and the image Seto had constructed of him expands, but is fundamentally unchanged. He’s brash and crass. He’s a dork with no manners. He’s hurting deeply in ways the average person can’t possibly understand. He’s a human learning to be a person and there are missteps, but his stubbornness keeps him going. He’s not kind, and he’s not good. His only interest is self-preservation and survival. He’s smarter than anyone, even Ryou, gives him credit for.

More than anything, he loves Ryou with his whole body, heart, and soul.

If it were anyone other than Bakura, this wouldn’t be such an easy decision. 

He adds to the pro side of the list - it would make Bakura happy.

-o-o-o-

Seto is a man with zero impulse control. 

He’s lucky that Ryou thinks it’s endearing and only somewhat frustrating at times. It’s entirely normal for him to decide they’re taking a weekend trip while he’s eating lunch on a Friday, and Ryou gives him a smile, packs a bag, and indulges his last minute requests.

The entire city has grown used to it. All duellist’s keep their decks on them at all times, because every few months Seto will come out with a brand new tournament and give them approximately thirty minutes to prepare. His employees never know when he’s going to pop into their cubicles with brand new ideas and plans, or when he’s deciding to shift gears entirely on a presentation due in an hour. His tournament prizes are always hefty and his employees are paid above the median; there may be some huffing and puffing, but things get done as he sees fit.

But in this, he keeps his impulsivity in check. 

He takes a few nights to sleep on the idea, re-assessing the pros and cons, and re-reading some of the research to further cement his decision. He’s not the only person involved, and he needs to come at this with full dedication and come out the other side as confident as he is about all his expertise. After a couple of days his conviction is set in stone, but he doesn’t say anything yet. 

Marik is really annoying. 

For the remainder of his stay in their home, he keeps asking Seto questions or trying to sell him on the idea, backtracking on his own assertion that he’d stay out of it.

Seto releases a sigh of relief when the plane takes off with their pestering house guest in it.

“It’s such a shame he can’t stay longer!” Ryou laments.

Seto nods along despite being of the opposite sentiment.

“One of these days I’ll convince him to make Domino his permanent home, but I think he still has a few years of travel left in him. He’s almost completed his 30 in 30 by 30 list, did he tell you?” His groan is answer enough. Ryou continues, “Once he’s done that, then we’re going to knock skydiving off his list. I promised I’d do it with him. I think we’ve suckered Katsuya into doing it too, but Yugi might talk him out of it before then. Is your answer still a no on that?”

“One of us has to stick around for the kids.”

“Mokuba is all grown up and can take care of himself.”

“I was talking about the fish.”

Ryou’s laugh warms him better than any summer sunshine. His joy is his everything. If he can make him happy, he’ll do whatever it takes.

He decides that he’s going to talk to Bakura first, but arranging a private conversation requires some precision work on his part. His office is too public, and he wants to have this discussion somewhere that he considers a safe space, which rules out the hotel Bakura’s staying at. It leaves his home as the best choice, but Ryou’s a bit of a homebody. He goes out to see their friends, do some shopping, and mail out his commissions, but that’s usually done while Seto’s in the office or they’re short chores that wouldn’t give him enough time to say everything that needs saying.

He makes the underhanded move of wrangling in Mokuba for help. He tries a vague excuse of needing Ryou out of the house for a bit, but his brother has aged out of doing everything he asks without questioning it. While avoiding the intimate details, he gives the explanation that he wants to talk things out with Bakura and, although it’s still vague, his brother is successfully recruited.

Things line up rather neatly. Mokuba’s been meaning to commission a painting from Ryou to hang up on a bare wall in his home office and uses that as an excuse to get Ryou over to his place to discuss the project. He promises his brother at least two or three hours of free time, which suits his purposes perfectly.

Their long history tells him that Ryou won’t be home until much later - he and Mokuba have a habit of getting distracted by anything imaginable. Usually games, especially Capsule Monsters, but they’re both more than happy to take any topic and run with it. One of his favourite things to do is sit in a room with them and listen to them talk for hours, something he’s never admitted aloud.

A few minutes after Ryou has left, Seto sends Izono out to pick up Bakura.

He gives him no message to pass along or any sort of explanation.

Bakura wanders into his office understandably wary less than twenty minutes later. He scopes the room on instinct and does a double take.

“There’s a chair.”

“Very observant,” Seto smarts.

“Huh.” Bakura doesn’t further comment on it.

Seto shuts his laptop and stands, “We’ll talk in the living room.”

“Um, sure…”

Ryou had told him early in their relationship that they wouldn’t have personal conversations on opposite sides of a desk, something about it feeling like a power play, which isn’t untrue in a professional setting. He extends the courtesy to Bakura hoping to start this off on the right foot. 

Bakura keeps a step behind him the entire way.

It’s been a month since they’ve seen each other - the last time being that awful game night. Seto’s moved on passed that already, he can’t stew in his own bad behaviour for too long or his mind starts spiralling. He’s aiming forward. Bakura, however, might not be as ready as he is to pretend nothing happened.

“I suppose I should start with an apology. I said a lot of cruel things the last time you were here.” They’re in the room they'd been in that day, and the memories resurface. “I wanted to get under your skin and went after your insecurities, but I didn’t mean the things I was saying. It might come as a surprise, but I don’t actually dislike you.”

Bakura scoffs in disbelief.

“I’ve found this situation difficult, and I lashed out at the person that was easiest to blame, but no, Bakura, I don’t dislike you. I… you’re…”

Bakura’s brow raises and watches him expectantly.

“There’s a lot of what happened with the Millennium Items that makes no sense, and I’ve made peace with that. There are things about your connection with Ryou that I’m never going to be able to understand, but ultimately, he views you as a part of him. And when I married him, I agreed to love and accept him and all his parts, and now that seems to include you. I intend to do a better job of showing that going forward.”

His words are stilted from awkwardness, but they’re spoken with deep-rooted sincerity. Bakura can feel it resonate in his bones.

“So… we’re good then? I can hang out with Ryou again?”

“Actually, I invited you here to issue a proposal.”

“I’d like a ruby.”

“Not that kind of proposal.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m all ears. What do you got for me big guy?”

Seto talks like he’s trying to sell him something. It’s all buzz words and highlighting the pros while downplaying the cons. Bakura doesn’t point out the unnecessary professionalism; the guy’s uneasy and if this is the only way he can say his piece, he can cut him some slack. And it doesn’t take long before he’s completely sold on what’s being offered.

He can barely hear the remainder of the speech through the excited buzzing in his ears.

“I’m down! Of course I’m down!”

“I thought so.”

Seto calms him down, finishes what he has to say, and assures Bakura they’ll discuss this with Ryou tomorrow. By the time Ryou gets home it’ll be late in the evening and this discussion will be best had when they have plenty of free time. It takes some prodding, but he sends Bakura on his way with a newfound skip in his step.

Bakura was never the difficult part in all this. No, the hard sell is going to be Ryou, but after seeing Bakura’s enthusiasm it gives him that extra burst of confidence.

He’s got this.

Chapter Text

Bakura joins them for breakfast. Seto had timed all of this to occur over the weekend, and none of them have work to get to. He’d have preferred more time in the morning to collect his thoughts, but Bakura hadn’t wanted to wait and Seto can’t really judge him for his impatience. 

Ryou chats with their guest, perfectly polite and amiable, and occasionally shoots his husband a look to gauge his headspace. Bakura’s not supposed to just show up anymore, but Seto hasn’t said anything about it so neither will he. He’s not going to be the one to rock the boat if things are calm.

As they talk, Seto sits quietly in their presence and asks himself - could this be every morning? There’s something comforting about their voices and how they hop from one silly topic to another. They keep each other entertained while Seto floats weightless in their gravitational pull. He feels no spark of irritation in the pit of his stomach at the disruption to his and Ryou’s usual routine; he doesn’t view Bakura as an intrusion. 

Will he feel the same next week? The week after that? Next year? For the rest of their lives?

No, he can’t get ahead of himself. Sit in the now - and the now is good. 

Once the dishes are cleared away, he ushers Ryou to the living room in a way he thinks is subtle but really isn’t; he’s not called out on it. He sits on the center cushion of the sofa and tugs Ryou to sit beside him, and Bakura drops and settles crossed legged on their adjacent recliner with his body shifted to stare at them.

“Bakura and I wanted to talk to you about something,” Seto says, straight to the point. He doesn’t know how to be any other way.

“I’m sorry, baby, but that’s not as much of a surprise as you think it is,” Ryou teases and Seto finds himself instantly more at ease. 

If he can pour his heart out to anyone, it’s Ryou.

“I should start by being honest - this idea did come from Marik.”

“Oh boy.”

“But I’ve done my research and considered this thoroughly, and somehow for the first time in his life Marik had a somewhat decent idea.”

“Alright, what’s this great idea?”

Seto grabs Ryou’s hand and rests it in his lap, a small request for strength, and begins, “I believe it would be a good idea if we opened our relationship to Bakura.” Ryou’s expression doesn’t change, he keeps his face carefully neutral, and Seto continues when there’s no immediate push back. “My initial thought was that we open the relationship on your side, allowing you to see Bakura separately, but I knew that you wouldn’t like being shared like that. And, truthfully, there would likely be resentment from either myself or Bakura in the long run. What I’m suggesting is that we would be what’s called a ‘throuple’, where the relationship would be between the three of us. What do you think?”

Ryou squeezes his hand, a confirmation that’s he’s hearing, but needs a moment to process.

A few lengthy seconds later, he asks, “… and this was Marik’s suggestion? Not his?” He points in Bakura’s direction with his free hand without looking at him.

“He made a vague suggestion, and I did my research.”

“Did he say we should all have a threesome? Because that sounds like him. And, just putting this out there, I’m down for that,” Bakura chimes in.

“I know.” Ryou shoots Bakura a quick side-eye, then returns his gaze to Seto with warmth settling in to relax his features. “Seto, I know this is because you love me, and it’s really, really, sweet that you would go this far, but I can’t see how this would work. I’m far from an expert on this ‘throuple’ thing, but that implies you and Bakura would be together too, right? And so far, you two haven’t liked each other much… or at all.”

“I knew he’d be easier to get on board than you, so we already talked this through yesterday. We’re both aware that we’re going to need to put real effort into this, and we’re up for it. We want to make this work.”

“Seto…” Ryou trails off, at a loss for words.

“Don’t give me that look.”

Ryou knows his expression has gone too soft for Seto’s liking, whatever he’s doing with his mouth or eyes reminds him too much of pity, and he offers a smile to ease his frustration.

“I can’t say I hate the idea. I love you both, and this seems like a solution, but I can’t see what you would get out of this, Seto. You’ve never been attracted to anyone else; I don’t want you trying to force yourself to like Bakura because you think it’s what I want. That’s not a solution.”

Seto looks to Bakura, locking their eyes, and admits with full sincerity, “I’m certainly not in love with him, but I do like him.” He shifts his gaze back to Ryou. “He makes you happy, and you love him. And I believe that, given time, I could too. That’s not something I’ve ever felt about anyone else.”

Ryou’s eyes narrow slightly as if assessing his honesty. After a short stretch of silence, he turns his head to look at Bakura, “And you?”

“You know I’m all for this. But I know you mean if I’m down to date mister tall dark and grouchy, and… yeah. I am. I mean, we shared a brain back in the day, you know I’ve always thought he was hot. I don’t see a problem with getting to know each other and all that romantic shit.”

“We’re going to take this slow. If at any point one of us realizes it’s not working, we’ll say so.”

“I’ll bow out, no harm done,” Bakura adds.

Ryou glances between them, eyeing them carefully. These are the two people he knows best, he can read through their bullshit any day, and all he’s getting here is sincerity. They both truthfully consider this a good idea. They’re both willing to commit to each other in an effort to be with Ryou when only a few weeks ago they were on the verge of throwing punches.

It’s insanity. But… but.

Is it really?

“Okay, let me put all of that aside for a second, and sorry for being crude, but - what about sex?” he asks. “Not to say that needs to happen now, but we’re all adults here, and it’s important that we talk about it.”

“We talked about that already!” Bakura proclaims proudly.

“I had no intention of opening this discussion without being properly prepared,” Seto says. Equally proud.

Ryou does have a type.

Seto continues, “It’ll take time before I’m comfortable doing anything… intimate… with Bakura, In the meantime, I’m okay if you two decide to do anything.”

“And then I told him that you wouldn’t want to do that. You’re not going to sleep with me until Kaiba’s down for it too. Am I right?”

“Of course. I’m not going to have sex with Bakura until we’re all on the same page,” Ryou tells Seto.

“I assure you, I-”

“That parts not up for debate.”

“Alright,” Seto concedes.

“Thank you. But on the topic of sex, I think we should be forward about this. Seto, cut me off if you want me to stop.” Seto nods. Ryou senses his uncertainty, and chooses his words carefully as he speaks specifically to Bakura, “Without getting into details, you should know that it did take a long time before Seto was comfortable with physical intimacy. All forms of it, not just sex. I assume it won’t take as long now that he’s more used to it, but it’ll probably take longer than you think it will.”

“I figured Mr. Uptight wouldn’t be down to fuck for a while, it’s not a problem.”

“Ryou’s right, we should set your expectations properly. If things go well, I hope it won’t take as long, but… it took a bit over a year before I felt comfortable with… those sorts of things,” Seto explains further, lacking his usual confidence, but stubbornly trudging onward. 

“Guys, come on, have a little faith in me here. I’ve waited twelve years, I think I can wait another if I gotta.”

“This is all hypothetical anyway, I haven’t agreed to anything.” Ryou releases Seto’s hand, crosses his arms, and leans back into the sofa. He keeps his eyes ahead, hovering somewhere between the two of them where he can keep them in his peripherals. The TV is off, but he’s not looking at anything anyway.

“It was sounding like you agreed,” Bakura points out.

“It just…” Ryou cuts himself short, rubs his cheek with one hand, and continues with a sigh, “It feels like I’m the one getting what I want, and you two are sort of… settling, in a way? I just don’t want this to blow up in our faces.”

“I can run the numbers and test out simulations, but there’s no way to know how this will turn out unless we try. Although, now that I’ve said it, I could put some data in and-”

“No,” Ryou interrupts his train of thought before that leaves the station. He taps Seto’s temple and asks, “What are the pros you’ve written down in here? List them for me.”

“It would make you happy,” he says. He grabs Ryou’s hand and kisses his palm, right in the center of a long-healed wound.

“That’s top of the list?”

“Always.” They share a smile, affection so strong it brightens the room, and for once Bakura doesn’t make himself look away.

“Okay, and what else?”

“He likes your crappy horror movies. I wouldn’t have to watch them with you anymore.”

“You absolutely will have to. I refuse to release you from that arrangement. I’d miss your commentary too much.”

“I know. Next is… you’ll have someone around when I’m on business trips, and I know he’d protect you if something were to happen. Because he wants to, not because I pay him to. We’d also be able to play more games, a lot of them require at least three people.”

“Right. We definitely need to expand our list of games to play, since we only have a hundred on it right now.”

“Exactly. See? There’s a lot of great reasons to go through with this. And… it’d make him happy too,” Seto says with a tilt of his head in Bakura’s direction. 

Ryou cups his cheek, “And what about you? Would it make you happy?”

Seto rests his hand on top of his, “Yes.”

“Then I’ll consider it. For now, it’s still early. Why don’t you two go out for the day? Get some fresh air, spend some time together, do some talking… more talking, because apparently you two have been doing that without me knowing.”

“What?” Bakura startles, sitting up straight.

“Call it a date or not, but go out. If you two can spend a day together without getting into a fight, then we can do a trial run and see where this goes. If not, then we forget about all of this and move on. Agreed?”

“Deal.” “Agreed.” They readily assent, no hint of hesitation in their voices or expressions.

“Thank you. I hope you guys have fun. I’m going to get started on Mokuba’s painting in the meantime…” Ryou stands in preparation to leave, and in his pause realization dawns on him. He turns his unintimidating glare up to Seto who followed him off the couch, “Did you rope Mokuba into distracting me?”

“I asked him to keep you busy for an hour or two. You coming home after midnight had nothing to do with me.”

“He wanted to show me his house in Minecraft,” Ryou defends. “You know how it is.”

“I do. Just like I know you two probably got carried away trying to recreate some Capsule Monster using blocks.”

“There was no ‘trying’ - only succeeding.”

“Mhm.” 

“Hey, um…” Bakura interrupts when it seems they’re done. He gets up and takes a tentative step closer to Ryou. “I know we said no sex, and that’s totally cool with me, but… what about kissing? Because I'd like that. If you want to.”

“Oh, uh, I…” Ryou looks to Seto for an answer.

“That’s fine with me,” he says, adding a small shrug to emphasize his indifference.

Despite the words, Ryou anxiously nibbles at his bottom lip and stares at him intensely in search of a subtle twitch that would betray a lie. Seto gives him nothing; there’s no lie to find, not even a drop of uncertainty rolling in his stomach. Yet Ryou doesn’t seem content.

Seto releases a little breath, understanding Ryou’s hesitance but still frustrated by it, and resigns himself to a more obvious show of approval.

He doesn’t say anything. His arm darts out, his fingers curl into the soft cotton of Bakura’s hoodie, and he drags him forward until he takes an unsteady step into Seto’s space. He leans down and kisses him without so much as a split-second of doubt. Their lips meet, hot and rough, and Bakura slips his tongue into his mouth with the familiarity of someone confident in their technique. It’s the same way Ryou kisses when he’s trying to convince Seto to step away from his desk.

He’d known, in theory, that the majority of Ryou’s physical intimacy experience came from his time with Bakura. The blatant similarity in something so simple as a kiss has his mind, as quick and active as ever, wondering just how far those similarities might go. He pulls away with a flustered pink in his cheeks.

His eyes flicker over to Ryou; he’s covering his mouth with his hands and blushing up to his ears. Seto smirks, despite his own reaction. It’s not often he can catch his husband off guard. 

Bakura drops back on his heels and grins, “After all that shit about taking your time, I didn’t expect to get anything out of you this soon.”

“Are you satisfied?” Seto asks Ryou.

His hands move from his hands to his cheeks, using his cold fingers to cool them down, and he squeaks, “Yes, that’s fine.”

“Someone enjoyed that a little too much, huh?” Bakura teases.

“Shut up.” And he’s now covering his eyes. “You two can leave now.”

“Hey! What about my smooch?”

Ryou peeks up at Seto from between his fingers.

“Really?” Seto asks incredulously.

“Sorry, sorry. Um, I guess it’s fine…”

Ryou stares at Bakura, obviously still anxious about the idea. 

He offers a grin to cover his disappointment and shrugs, “Don’t worry about it. Maybe next time, yeah?”

“No, I’m not - I’m sorry. I’m just too much in my head about it. Come here.” Though Ryou makes the request, he’s the one who closes the distance between them first. He cups Bakura’s face and leans down to kiss him. It’s gentle and chaste, in a way the past Bakura would have made a fuss about, but now melts into like a snowflake on an open flame.

When Ryou pulls back, he glances between Bakura and Seto. There’s no frown or glare in sight. Seto isn’t indifferent, there’s a interested glimmer in his eyes, but Ryou finds no regret.

A tiny spark of hope flickers to life in his chest.

“Alright, you two get going. I have work to do, you know!”

Ryou is given a peck on each cheek and the two take their leave.

-o-o-o-

Only after his phone alerts him that the front gate has been opened and closed, signalling their exit, does Ryou make the call. 

“’ello…?” The ringing is cut short with a groggy greeting.

“Why are you trying to interfere in my marriage?” Ryou asks without preamble.

A loud groan comes from the other end followed by the creaking of a bed frame. A few muttered curses that devolves into a louder one.

“Really? It’s two in the fucking morning over here you know! And I just fell asleep.” Marik’s attempt to sound angry is voided by a yawn.

“Why are you talking to Seto about our love life?” he changes the question though the intention is the same.

“I… ugh.” Some more groaning and muttering. Then the sound on the other end seems to settle as Marik makes himself comfortable. “It’s not like one of you was going to bring it up!”

“Where did you even get this ‘throuple’ thing from?”

“Huh. So your man actually did some research. He’s going all in? I didn’t expect that. All I told him was that you should be allowed to bang Bakura on the side, but he thinks you should both bang him? Interesting…”

“Marik! This isn’t about sex. This is about my ten year relationship that’s now… I don’t even know anymore!”

“Oh. You’re not actually mad at me, are you? You’re just freaking out.”

“Of course I’m freaking out!”

Marik sighs, “Well I’m up now, so talk to me. What’s the problem?”

“The problem? The problem is… is… I don’t know! Why does this all have to be so complicated? What if this goes horribly wrong and Seto decides it’s too much? That I’m too much? I haven’t been this scared about our relationship since our first year together. I hate the way all this is making me feel. We’re married, we’re forever, it’s not supposed to feel like this.”

“Not that I know anything about the subject, but I’m pretty sure marriage isn’t picture perfect the entire time. Everyone’s got good and bad days. I remember you wanting to strangle him when he was an even worse ass than usual after Mokuba moved out. You got through all that, you’ll be fine. On the matter of this, though, you opening your relationship is making things less complicated. Now you won’t have to pick - you’ll get both.”

“But it could go so wrong, Marik.”

“It could also go right. If Kaiba agreed to give it a shot, that means he thought it was worth taking the risk.”

“While Seto might be the smartest person in the entire world, he doesn’t always… how do I put this? Yes, he’ll think things through, overthink them even, but because he loves me, he’s looking at it with the intention to make it work in my favour. It’s hard to know what he actually thinks about things when it comes to me.”

“I’ll be honest and say that sounds like his problem. He’s a big boy. If he doesn’t want this, it’s up to him to say so. If he talked to you about it and said to go for it, I’d take him on his word. But you know him better than I do, so… Let me channel my inner Yugi. Hm… believe in the heart of the cards?”

“I don’t have a deck on me, Marik.”

“What do you expect? I’m half asleep! Can we rehash this when my brain is working better?”

Ryou, now in his studio, wanders to the shelf that holds his deck. He only uses it against Seto, and sometimes Yugi or Jonouchi. It contains a couple of cards that are now banned; no one makes a fuss, not even his (usually) rule-abiding husband. He reaches for the top card and flips it over.

“Change of Heart. Figures.”

“… huh?” 

“Your advice worked out just fine. Thanks, Marik.”

“You’re welcome…?”

“Goodnight.”

He hangs up on a still confused Marik. He rubs his thumb over the image on the card, fondness and nostalgia warming his touch. Change is good. Change is necessary.

Maybe this is a bad idea, and maybe it could go terribly wrong, but those are the same thoughts he’d had before asking Seto out on their first date and look where that’s lead them. Change leads to new beginnings; maybe they can make this work.

Chapter Text

“This place is kinda dead for a Saturday, isn’t it?”

Bakura warily glances around the near-empty arcade. If they were entirely alone, he’d assume that was of Seto’s doing, but there are a couple of kids scattered around and two bored employees chatting behind the change counter. Following a few feet behind them are two guards who slip into the shadows between machines and vanish from sight. 

“These days most kids have gaming consoles at home,” Seto explains.

He guides them further into the building. Bakura trails after him assuming he knows which game he wants them to start with. Some of the children peek at them, but for the most part they’re ignored. Seto doesn’t draw any attention here; Bakura remembers something about him having top scores in a bunch of games, though wonders if that’s still the case.

“I guess there’s not much point coming out here if you have it at home, but there’s something about an arcade I don’t think you can recreate in your own living room… but maybe that’s just me.”

“It isn’t.” Seto brings them to a game called ‘The House of the Dead’, a zombie themed shooter. Him defaulting to something horror-themed isn’t lost on Bakura. Seto grabs the bright blue Player 1 gun and gestures for Bakura to grab the red Player 2 gun on the other side. “I assume a self-proclaimed great thief should have half-decent aim.”

“Tch. We’ll see who has half-decent aim after I get all the kills.” He eagerly picks up his weapon, the spark of challenge lighting up both their expressions.

“Loser buys lunch.”

“Deal.”

Seto presses start, and the introduction begins without needing to insert any coins. The two face forward and take aim.

“How does a place like this stay in business if you don’t pay for games?” Bakura asks.

“I own it.”

“Huh. Why would you buy a dying business?”

The first zombie is killed with a headshot - they both mentally tally it in their own kills. The game isn’t set up to count individual scores, but their kill count will be an argument for them to have when they’re done.

“Some kids need a place to go that isn’t home. That’s all.”

Bakura glances at him out of the corner of his eye, losing out on a kill. Seto’s words are meant to be indifferent though the intention behind it is incredibly sweet, and Bakura might have swooned if Seto didn’t look so fucking smug right now. He gets this cocky air to him when he plays games that’s not so far removed from how Bakura acts in the same situation, and opposites attract but like calls to like, and if he thought it would go over well he’d distract him by shoving him into a corner and kissing him stupid.

Next time, he thinks. He blinks the dirty thoughts away and returns to the game; a couple of seconds has already put him behind.

“With how much you like kids, I was surprised you and Ryou didn’t have some of your own. I know he’s pretty indifferent to the idea, or was, but I thought you’d have your own Brady Bunch by now.”

Seto doesn’t say anything for nearly a full minute. Bakura’s focus has returned to his aiming and it takes him a moment to remember what they were even talking about once Seto speaks.

“We discussed having children, but as much as I believe children are worthy of care, I don’t believe I’m suited to give it on a full-time basis. I love my brother, but I failed him. A lot. The person he is today has little to do with me. I’m not willing to risk not being so lucky on the second try. Even with Ryou picking up my slack, it wouldn’t be right.”

There’s nothing he can say to try and counter his points that Ryou wouldn’t have already said, so Bakura holds his tongue.

“Hm, well… I’d say you’re helping plenty of kids with the stuff you’re already doing, anyway,” he awkwardly offers instead. 

“I know.”

“Now that I know this place exists, I’ll be here all the time.”

“Losers have to pay an entrance fee. Better pick up the speed, thief.”

“Says the loser without a wallet.”

Bakura spots the minuscule twitch in Seto’s index finger as he shuts down the urge to check his pocket and smirks. He hasn’t taken his wallet. Yet. But it gives him the opening to steal a kill from right under his nose. 

It’s difficult to compete when there’s no visual representation of a score and the game itself is cooperative, but that doesn’t stop them from goading each other and proudly calling out their kills. In the end, this game takes up what’s left of their morning and they only walk away once the ending credits start rolling. They argue their kill count all the way to the food counter - Seto insists he won but doesn’t make Bakura pay - and it comes to a close as they sit at a table to eat.

“I thought you’d be one of those rich people foodies.”

“And that means…?”

“You know. That you think you’re too good for poor people food. Like nachos and burgers.” Bakura gestures to their meals, both greasy and fatty and terribly delicious. 

Seto bought the company and bothered to rig the machines to work for free, but he obviously didn’t pay any attention to the menu. Not that Bakura’s complaining, this is exactly his taste. It’s an odd sight to see a guy who usually wears suits and ties now wearing slacks and a sweater - his ‘disguise’ - and eating nachos dripping in dubious looking cheese. 

It’s a casual first date. Bakura wouldn’t have wanted anything different. Is Seto doing with him what he would do with Ryou, or is this based on his observations of Bakura’s likes and dislikes? Has he bothered observing him enough to learn anything about him in the first place? 

It leaves him somewhat uneasy, in a way he can’t quite place, but so long as the guy doesn’t accidentally call him Ryou he thinks he’ll get over it.

“It’s been a while since we’ve all been here, but we used to come often. It’s not my favourite food, but it’ll do.”

“Saw you had the top score on House of the Dead. You still top score on the rest of ‘em?”

The pursed lips tell Bakura all he needs to know.

“Yugi has claimed the top score on a couple of them. As a CEO, I don’t have the time to waste reclaiming my lost titles, so-”

“You still can’t beat him, huh?”

“… No.”

“At least you’re alive. Last time he beat me in a game I died.”

Seto has to give him that one.

Bakura’s a fairly chatty person, he always has been, but he and Seto haven’t had much time alone without Ryou’s involvement. There are some obvious topics to choose, but if he has to talk Duel Monsters he’s going to drown himself in the slushy machine. He will actually bludgeon himself with one of those plastic guns if he has to listen to Seto profess his love for a dragon card. Instead, he opts for something safe and easy to digest; he asks about the little brother.

“What’s tiny Kaiba up to these days? He still work for you?”

Seto’s raised brow says he sees through his attempt at small talk, but the doting older brother isn’t going to waste an opportunity to boast.

He talks about Mokuba for the remainder of their lunch and during the first couple of rounds of Street Fighter. Bakura’s still getting used to who Seto is these days. His guard lowers as Seto never starts yelling about something benign, he doesn’t make any threats or pull out his deck - not that Bakura has one of his own anymore. The guy he knew was loud; he needed to be the center of attention everywhere he went in a grab for total control of the situation.

The pride remains, but it’s tempered into normalcy. The power remains, but the need behind it has fizzled out. His ego will always be the biggest thing in the room, but… It’s not obnoxious the way it once was.

Bakura’s initial thought, straight from Ryou’s own brain, is that love changed him. When he blocks out the sickeningly sappy answer, he chooses to believe that it’s simply the result of adulthood. 

That’s what happened with Bakura, after all.

They call it quits before dinner. As first dates go, it went well. Not that either of them are subject matter experts; Bakura had never had a first date before, and Seto only ever had the one. 

Seto even offers to drive him home like he’s some sort of gentleman, and when Bakura leans in for a kiss before stepping out of the car, he allows it. It’s a chaste peck, nothing hot and heavy and nothing like the kiss from this morning. It’s barely romantic. It’s barely a touch. 

But Bakura walks into the hotel with a heart racing with possibilities.

-o-o-o-

“Hey.”

“Hi, baby!” Ryou’s stretched out across the couch in his studio, phone resting on his stomach where he’s just set it down, and he tilts his head to look at Seto as he walks in. “How’d it go? I didn’t think you’d be home this late. Not that I’m complaining; I’m just pointing it out.”

“It went well. Better than I expected, honestly.”

“Really?” Ryou asks, inflection one of joy rather than disbelief.

Seto nods rather than vocalize his answer and joins him on the couch. He lifts Ryou’s legs, sits, and sets them down across his lap.

“Where did you go? What did you do?”

“Arcade.”

Ryou laughs, “Let me guess, ‘House of the Dead’?”

“We beat it.”

“Of course you did. So it really went well? You’re still…”

“I’m still up for all this, but I suspect you might be having second thoughts?”

The easel is out and propped up in its designated spot in the corner of the room with a large blank canvas set upon it. The desk is littered with sketches of prospective choices for Mokuba’s painting. Ryou had, indeed, started working, and when Ryou starts something, his focus stays strong. The only thing that could have pulled him away from that desk without a prompt from Seto or his dinner alarm is if something is weighing heavy on his mind. 

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided.”

“I see.” Seto takes Ryou’s hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze. He’s never been good at asking questions to get to the root of the problem, but Ryou has learned to say what he needs to say in the silences he’s presented with.

“This all seems… selfish. I feel selfish. I know you’re both saying you’re open to this and that you want to do this, but… I know it’s because of me. Because I can’t let him go and because I can’t stop feeling the things I feel for him. If it wasn’t for me being a mess this wouldn’t be coming up at all. If we do this, I’d be getting everything I want, and I can’t stop thinking that somehow you’re both losing, and I don’t… I can’t make it make sense why either of you would want this, I guess.”

“And because we love you isn’t answer enough?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Love isn’t all a relationship is, Seto. You know that as well as I do. What if he’s not patient enough? He’s never been patient, he’d get upset if I was in the shower too long, or if I took too long making dinner, or if I wanted to start over one of my figures because he thought it was fine the way it was even though I wanted to do better, and… I don’t think he’s actually like that anymore; he’s been better, from what I’ve noticed.” Ryou sits up and crosses his legs, resting his and Seto’s linked hands in his lap. “But it hurts to think that you might feel pressured to do things you’re not ready to do, because he’s impatient and you think it’s what I want.”

“I’m not going to make that same mistake again, I promise.”

It had been Ryou’s attentiveness that had ground their first attempt at intimacy to a halt. He’d spotted the tightness in his shoulders, the hesitant touches, the subtle lack of enthusiasm; he called Seto out on the fact he wasn’t ready and, ultimately, saved him from making a mistake he might not have recovered from. 

Seto hadn’t wanted to say no because - shouldn’t he be ready by now? After a dozen dates, several weeks shared together, isn’t the timing right? That night lead to them having a very deep, insightful conversation about their needs and wants, and Seto finally opening up about some of his physical traumas and insecurities. Ryou helped settle his nerves and made the promise that ‘no’ would never come with consequences.

They didn’t have sex for another eight months, and the waiting had been exactly what Seto needed to be mentally prepared. It had been wonderful. Ryou’s terrified of him falling into that burden all over again, but he’s outgrown that.

He has - and Ryou sees it in his expression.

“Okay,” he relents.

Sex is no longer the big bad scary thing Seto forces himself not to think about too intently. Ryou knows that too well to let that be what’s weighing him down right now.

“Are you not sure about being in a relationship with him?” Seto asks. 

Ryou releases a slow steadying breath and answers with his gaze dropping to their hands, “I’m not sure. I think I’m sure? I think yes? But… I know this is awful to say, he’s been trying so hard, and he’s been doing so well, but… he wasn’t always nice, you know? What we had, when I look back on it, it was all terribly unhealthy. Going forward, it’ll all be new and hopefully healthier, and… What if I don’t love him as much as I think I do, and all this was for nothing? It would ruin everything, wouldn’t it?”

“I think you should give Bakura more credit.”

Ryou gives him a confused frown.

“If you’d been single when he came back, you were always going to need to fall in love with who he is now, instead of coasting by on your old feelings for him. He knows this; he accepts the risk. It’s up to you if you do too.”

“Do you think he’d still be my friend if it turns out I don’t feel the same way as I used to?”

“There’s no sum of money in the world that could get him to leave you. And yes, I considered it.”

Ryou laughs softly. He drops forward and Seto wraps his arms around him to pull him into his chest. 

“Okay, if you’re sure, then I’m sure. I want to give this a shot and see what happens.”

“If anything goes wrong, you can always blame Marik.”

“The traitor owes me big next time he’s in town after going behind my back like that.”

“I meant to tell you earlier, but I didn’t want to say anything while you were upset. I kissed Bakura at the end of the date, I assumed that was alright, but thought you should know.”

“Yes, it’s okay.” Ryou pulls back far enough to look him in the eyes, and his lips twitch into a smile he can’t hold back, “Did you like it?”

“He kisses like you.”

“Mm. Then you really liked it.”

Seto kisses away his teasing grin.

Chapter Text

There’s no big dramatic shift. In a way, it feels like things have finally gone back to normal, and at the same time they’ve found themselves in an odd space between strange and familiar.

Having Bakura around near permanently is familiar. When he’s finished working he comes over to hang out with Ryou. He’ll lay across the couch in his studio and ramble about his day while Ryou works, or he steals his GameBoy and plays in silence, the room echoing the sounds of their breathing and Ryou’s instrumental playlist - and that’s the most familiar thing in the world to the both of them. When Seto gets home, they’ll have dinner, maybe play games or watch T.V together, things which are new but still comfortable.

He goes home to sleep on weekdays, the walk to work a little closer from there and Ryou insisting they not rush things. On weekends, they’ll all get lost playing some video game or putting a puzzle together or trying out some new board game Yugi recommended, and the hours fade and no one wants to get Bakura home, not even Bakura himself, and he crawls into his old, yet familiar, guest room bed. It’s still too big, but it’s not as cold as it once was.

There’s nothing he can do about the longing; how strong the urge is to leave this room, walk down the hall, and knock on their door, but it’s manageable now. It’s a ‘soon’, not a ‘never’. One day he’ll get to wrap himself around Ryou and wake to his gorgeous smile, and, explored in these new dreams and daydreams, one day he’ll get to be the center of a Ryou and Seto sandwich, and finally get to learn what the ever poised CEO looks like with bedhead. One day he’ll get to kiss them awake. He’ll get to have a place in their bed. 

For now he practices patience. 

Besides, there is a lot of kissing, and that’s more than enough to tide him over.

Although he was the last to get on board with the idea, Ryou is the one who takes charge. He insists on dates, in pairs and all together. Bakura goes to the arcade with Ryou, who is only slightly less competitive than his husband, and a week later it’s a wonderfully romantic dinner date at some upscale restaurant with Seto. Somewhere in between the married couple has their solo time, something Ryou says they’ve been neglecting lately anyway.

His favourite evenings are when they’re all doing something together. Spending time with Ryou triggers that nostalgic feeling, warming him from the inside out on love alone, and his time with Seto tends to lean towards the hot and bothered - the fucking smug bastard that he is - but there’s something in how much they love each other that makes him truly happy. He’s not a third wheel encroaching on their space, but someone blessed to be in their sphere, and slowly gravity will pull him right in until he fits perfectly in place by their sides. 

But there needs to be more than just the three of them in their lives, and it’s Ryou who sits them down a couple of weeks into this new arrangement to have a, belated, talk about privacy while reinforcing connections.

Bakura’s addition to the relationship needs to be kept private from the public until much further down the line, something he doesn’t see as a difficult task, but it’s decided that they’ll keep things hushed for now around their friends until they’re all ready for that discussion. There’s no reason to open that can of worms if things don’t work out in a month. 

On the other hand, Ryou urges Seto to talk to his brother, his usual outside perspective, and Ryou tells Bakura to get over himself and call Marik. They can’t confine themselves to this house and each other; they need to be talking to others, whether it’s complaining or simply recounting their dates, it’s a necessity.

Having spent too many of his formative years in solitude has made Ryou acutely aware of how important it is to have people to talk to.

Knowing when to pick his battles, Seto talks to his brother. And after picking the battle and losing spectacularly, Bakura calls Marik.

Since Marik is aware of the situation already, there’s nothing to divulge, but it’s talking to him in the first place that’s annoying. It’s all friction and ribbing and goading, and Bakura doesn’t mind it, really, but hates how often it feels like he’s losing in a battle of wits. Unfortunately, while over the phone, Bakura can’t picture throttling him as his go-to for decompressing. Now he simply endures, and, well, it’s fine. It’ll do. 

The other people he hangs out with, usually Yugi and Jonouchi who have randomly started calling him up to spend time with them, even more oddly without Ryou around, are way too nice. Marik’s brashness is a little refreshing in comparison. 

Seto doesn’t have as much of an easy time opening up about the new changes to his relationship, not even to his brother. Or, possibly, because it’s his brother. Polyamorous relationships are often culturally seen as inherently sexual, even Marik’s first suggestion was a threesome, and that’s not something he discusses with anyone outside of Ryou - not even Mokuba. Especially Mokuba. Even if that’s not what he’s going to be saying, he expects that to be what’s heard. 

He’d made the decision to trust Ryou’s judgment that a third party perspective will be beneficial and makes himself go through with it.

Mokuba has grown out of being his ‘yes man’ and has grown into someone who challenges him and pushes him further than ever before.

He doesn’t offer immediate approval.

Mokuba also deeply loves his brother - and Ryou.

So neither does he offer disapproval, or anything worse like disgust.

He’s carefully inquisitive; nothing less than Seto would expect of his little brother. He asks where this idea came from, what’s the actual game plan, and where this intends to go, and, much to Seto’s chagrin, he asks if this is a love thing, or a bedroom thing. Mokuba isn’t nearly as reserved as Seto is on these matters, something he must have picked up from somewhere though Seto has no idea where.

When doing his best to articulate his thoughts and summarize the discussions he’s had with both Ryou and Bakura about their expectations, it crosses his mind that, yes, once again his husband is right. It helps.

It’s always annoying when that happens.

Before they know it, time does what it must and moves forward. Summer turns to fall, the air turns crisp, the leaves start falling, and the days circle on. They celebrate birthdays, Ryou’s first, then Seto’s - both turn 29 this year.

It’s only while trying to figure out a gift for Ryou that Bakura pulls out his wallet to take a peek at his ID to know what date Seto put down as his birthday. June 28th - the day he came back, that’s fitting. And the same year of birth as the other two. The couple of months that marks him as older is immediately lorded over them, despite having technically been born over three thousand years ago.

Their routine becomes established. Work, chores, downtime and time out with friends are all mapped out ahead of them.

Things work for them, and weeks turn to a month that turns into two, and although they sit to talk about their relationship on multiple occasions, none of them has anything to complain about or any suggestions to improve things.

They’re happy.

Bakura comes by with fresh baked treats, Ryou makes dinner with Bakura at the counter chopping veggies, and when Seto comes home he gives them both a kiss in greeting.

It puts Bakura on edge when one evening it’s past seven o’clock and Seto still hasn’t made it home. Ryou is plating dinner and hasn’t made any comments on their missing partner.

“Where’s Seto?” he asks from behind the chopping board holding a few scattered slices of onion. Ryou had instructed to only cut half of it, but he got too into it and the entire thing was chopped. One half was added to the dish, the rest was left behind to put away later. Ryou gives him a disgusted nose scrunch when he spots him eating it raw.

“Still at work. Oh, right, I forgot to mention. It’s the end of their fiscal year at KaibaCorp, so we’re not going to be seeing him a lot until the month is over.”

“Why?”

“It’s his busiest time of the year; they have a bunch of year-end meetings with all the employees, and... other business-y type things to close out the year. It’s been this way forever. Even Mokuba probably won’t be by for dinner in the next couple of weeks. He’s going to be home really late every day and will probably spend his weekends in the office. Sorry, I should have warned you, but it completely slipped my mind that you didn’t know.”

“I thought you two had all this work-life balance thing going on?”

Ryou smacks the back of his hand with his spatula when he reaches for another slice of onion, “I’m not kissing you if you have onion breath!"

“Yeah, yeah…” he sneaks one when Ryou’s back is turned.

“And this is our compromise. Normally he does his best to be home, but there’s too much on his plate this time of year and there’s nothing to be done about it. He’s still CEO, he can only delegate so much. Oh, and you won’t see him much during launch weeks. But you’ll see that coming from a mile away. He gets a little… you know, when they’re about to drop a new game or device.”

“He goes insane?”

“He’s passionate.”

“We can go with that. So what do you usually do with all this free time?”

“Invite people over for dinner, hang out with friends, watch movies Seto hates. Um… Oh, I usually make him a little something. A gift for when it’s all over.”

“Are they sexy gifts, or can I get in on this?”

“You want to help?”

“Why not?”

Ryou gives him a pleased smile, “Then I’d love your help! He’s not big on sweets, but he loves strawberries. What about a strawberry cake of some sort? I always like to include a Blue-Eyes design too, I can draw it on top with some icing or piping gel?”

“Cool. I can ask the boss lady if she has a recipe she recommends, unless you have something in mind already.”

“Not at all! I’d love to hear what Chihiro suggests, her deserts are fantastic!”

“You don’t have to suck up, she’s not here. And she already likes you way more than me.”

“That’s because you keep stealing croissants.”

“It’s not stealing if I’m the one who made it.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how that works.”

They don’t bother with taking their food to the dining room and eat at the kitchen island. They chat and joke and laugh, the mood so much more relaxed than it had been in their youth, now that there’s no underlying darkness and fear between them. What they’d once thought was love pales in comparison to the intensity of their current feelings, the warmth of it, the brightness of it, the purity of it.

They were a teenager drowning in loneliness and helplessness, left breathless with abandonment, and a vengeful spirit rotted away by anger and a dark force he couldn’t control; neither of them had known what constituted healthy, and their harshness, their desperation, the longing and need and tears had all seemed right in the moment.

Bakura tugs Ryou in for a kiss, and Ryou allows it despite the horrible onion breath.

This, now, is so much more than what it had once been.