Adult-FanFiction.org : Yu-Gi-OH

BABY BABY - A YGO FANFICK	By : Darkequidae Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 937 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh, or any of the related characters. I also do not know Justin Bieber. No money has been made through the writing of this work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-BABY BABY - A YGO FANFICK
- 1
Summary/Prompt: SETO KAIBA IS THE WORLD’S BIGGEST POPSTAR. BUT WAHT HAPPENS WHEN HE FALLS INLOVE WIT HONE OF HIS POPSART RIVALS? BETTER SUMMERY INSIDE R&R PLZ. NEW CHAPPIE UP!
RATING - T FOR CURSING AND SUGGESTIVE SITUATIONS (LOL TEHY MAKEOUT N STUFF)

A/N: Inspired by The Dignity of the Retarded/Millennium Tinny Rod’s tumblr page, which has won me. Briefly considered writing this in all caps to go with the prompt, but that would cause me to rage if I read it, so I didn’t. That and I’m not fluent enough in fangirl to pull it off. You’re welcome.
Also also, this ended up a lot more serious than I first intended it to be. Whether that’s a good or bad thing, I’ll let you decide.
I have also hit a very thick wall of writers block on this. I intended it to be longer, but for now it will stand as a one-shot. If I ever add to it, I will post.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The deafening shrieking of the crowd increased, somehow, in volume as Seto Kaiba waved himself offstage. Isono was at his side immediately with a bottle of spring water and a hand to catch the headset microphone that was flung carelessly in his direction.

“M-Mr. Kaiba, I think they want an encore performance, sir.” Seto glanced at his assistant as if silently asking whether or not he was serious, before turning his head aside and smirking.

“Hmph. Haven’t those losers learned by now that once I leave the stage, I’m not coming back? I have much better things to do with my time.”

“But sir…”

“But nothing. I’m going to change, and then I expect my limo to be waiting at the back entrance to take me home immediately. Distract the fans somehow, you’re good at that, aren’t you?”

“Yes Mr. Kaiba, as you wish, sir.” Isono bowed his head in acquiescence and just about ran off to do his employer’s bidding.

“Good.”

Taking a sip of water, Seto strode purposefully towards his personal dressing room, internally grinning as the understudies and background workers scurried out of his way like cockroaches from a light. Good for them, he thought to himself. Hoping that there were no rabid fans waiting for him inside his supposedly private room -again-, Seto cautiously opened the door and slipped inside. His dark blue eyes scanned the large, open room. Along one wall was a large table, covered in hair styling equipment and stage makeup and facing a huge, lighted mirror. The white-washed back wall had a small window near the ceiling, and a round table with two chairs sat in the corner farthest from the vanity table. This was laid out with various food items, all according to his direct specifications. On the third wall under a large framed Andy Warhol print there was a black leather couch, and it was onto this Seto fell after securing the lock behind him and let out a large sigh.

Another concert down, one more to go. He knew his agent had his reasons for booking such a long tour, but Seto was having a harder and harder time keeping his temper in check around the adoring, screaming, and groveling crowds of fans. Oh, the ones who just wanted autographs or photos were fine, it was the ones who would write stalker-quality letters containing human hair and marriage proposals and promises to bear his children that annoyed him. And not just from girls either. No, he would have to talk with Mokuba about his wardrobe, or rather, lack thereof. Seto glanced down at the silver fishnet shirt, cropped red leather jacket, and artistically and strategically ripped black skinny jeans that his brother and manager Mokuba had somehow convinced him to wear. Sure it was what the fans liked and wanted, but dressing like a stripper was not helping decrease the number of restraining orders he was going to need.

Looking at his attire reminded the star of why he had come in this depressingly dismal room in the first place. Pushing off of the smooth cushions, Seto ambled over to the wardrobe next to the door he had entered through, removing and carelessly discarding the leather jacket. Sifting through the colorful multitude of fabric, Seto finally found what he was looking for. A few minutes later saw him dressed in a simple black long-sleeved turtle neck and black slacks. Pulling his white trench coat over his shoulders, Seto brushed his long brown hair out of his face and exited the calm of the room to proceed to his ride to the hotel.

Noise that had before been muffled now surrounded him in full force. Isono at least seemed to have done well as to keep the crowds at bay, and Seto managed to slip through the back hallways for the most part unnoticed. It wasn’t until he opened the rear exit door that he was faced by a human wall of admirers, all clamoring for his singular attentions. Thankfully Isono appeared out of the sea of faces and flashing lights and ushered the peeved boy millionaire into the black limousine that sat waiting for him.

“Isono… I thought I told you to keep them occupied.” Seto growled in his assistant’s ear.

“I’m truly sorry, Mr. Kaiba, sir. A rumor started that you would be leaving from an alternative door, and things got out of hand rather quickly, and…”

But they had made it to the car, upon which Seto all but dove into the dark safety of the interior.

“Just try harder next time, Isono. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Yes sir, goodnight, sir.” And with a salute the pointy-haired suit closed the limo door and pounded on the hood as a signal to the driver to get moving. And move it did, as fast as was safely possible and much to the disappointment of the gathered masses. Isono looked on as the limo disappeared into the twilight, before he was shocked unpleasantly back to reality as a wave of bodies crashed around him in a vain attempt to follow their idol.

The ride home, while peaceful, was rather uneventful, and seeing that all he really wanted to do was shower and sleep, it was with a reluctant happiness that Seto left the isolation of the limo for the uncertain openness of the hotel entrance and lobby. Fortunately this location was far less crowded, and after signing a few pieces of paper and photographs he was able to reach the elevator and make his way to the penthouse suite that was currently his home. As the metal doors slid open, he was welcomed by the sight of his brother sitting in one of the brown leather armchairs that were arranged around a short mahogany table in the middle of the room. The younger Kaiba was dressed in deep grey slacks, a pale cream button-down shirt, and a black sporting jacket. His long black hair was tied up in a ponytail and his steel grey eyes rose at the soft sound of his brother’s entrance to meet tired blue ones.

“Hey Seto! How was your night?” he asked cheerfully.

“It was fine, but I hope you didn’t come all the way out here just to ask me how my day was.” Seto smiled despite of himself, but he was mystified as to why his brother had left his office in Domino to fly across the Pacific when a simple phone call might have sufficed.

“You’re right, I didn’t. I have a proposition for you, Seto, one I think that may interest you greatly. “

“You don’t say.” The older Kaiba hung his trench coat on a hook near the elevator doors, and sat opposite his brother, so that his back was warmed by the fire that flickered in its hearth. He crossed his arms and legs and gave his full attention to the dark-haired young man.

“Heh, indeed I do. You, big brother, are one of the world’s top selling pop artists right now, are you not?”

“I am, but I don’t see where this is going, Mokuba. You may want to elaborate a bit.”

“Just wait. Now, who is one of your top rivals in this music game?”

“That would be Just-… Mokuba, please don’t tell me you’re planning what I think you’re planning!” Seto uncrossed his legs in shock, leaning forwards in his chair.

Mokuba smiled. “Yes, I do believe I am. I want to alter your last engagement to make it a double event. I want you to share your last show with Justin Bieber.”

“Surely you can’t be serious! He’s one of my biggest rivals! I can’t do a show with him, I just can’t!”

“I am serious, and don’t call me Shirley. Really, Seto, it won’t be all that bad. It’s one show, and the publicity of the whole thing will sell out the venue for sure. And once it’s over we won’t have to do another tour for quite awhile, and we can relax.”

Seto glared at his brother for a few moments. Sure it would be nice to be able to end this craziness and go home to Japan, where he could work on his next album in peace. But still, doing a double show with his rival seemed like a large price to pay, even if it was just one time.

“Come on, Seto. I know you can be stubborn about working with others, but sometimes you have to think about your career and not just yourself. This double show could stand to skyrocket your popularity! Please, Seto? Just this one show?” Mokuba turned sad eyes to his brother, much as he had when they were children. He knew it was his brother’s weakness that he could not truly deny the younger Kaiba anything, and shameful as it may be he was going to rely on that weakness now.

Seto sighed. Mokuba always knew how to get his way when it came to him, and this was no exception.

“As long as it will give me a vacation from all this touring nonsense, fine, I’ll do it. But I’m not going to enjoy it, know that. And I want a separate dressing room. In fact, make sure it’s on the other side of the building.” Seto couldn’t help but let a tiny smile pass his lips as his little brother beamed at him.

“Wonderful! I’ll finalize the plans right away. You won’t regret your decision, Seto, trust me!” And with that Mokuba bounded around the small table that separated them and threw his arms around his brother’s neck. He released his grip as he felt his brother recoil slightly, and stepping away cast his eyes downwards to study the patterns of the carpet. “Sorry, big brother, I…”

Seto’s gaze also veered off to the distance. “It’s ok, Mokuba, I just…” He struggled with the words in his head, and ended up issuing nothing more than a stream of incomprehensible mumblings. Finally he managed to change the subject. “That sounds good, Mokuba. When is the date of the venue set to be?”

Mokuba took the cue from his elder that what had just transpired had not happened, and, his trademark cheerfulness re-infusing his voice, replied; “In three weeks, Seto. It will be in LA so you’ll be moving hotels next Wednesday and arriving Sunday night. Does that sound alright?”

“Not much I can do about it if it isn’t. All the usual requests shall be made, I assume?”

“Of course. Well. That’s all I had to report. Good luck with the rest of your tour, bro. And do try to be a bit nicer to your fans. They are what pay the bills, you know.”

Seto smirked as he stood to see his brother off. “I’ll be nicer when they stop being annoying, Mokuba. I’ll see you later. Call if anything else happens, ok?”

“Will do, big brother. Bye!” And with a smile the ebony-haired Kaiba turned and left the suite, waving as the burnished steel elevator doors slid smoothly shut.

Seto kept his eyes on the doors for a good minute after his brother had left before he turned away, his arms wrapped around his torso. He wished Mokuba hadn’t hugged him; it brought too many emotions to the surface, emotions that he had worked very hard to suppress over the years. Wandering over to the full-service bar, Seto poured himself a shot of brandy, and downed it in one swallow. He let out another long sigh, before putting a hand to his face and massaging his temples. Justin Bieber. This was going to be an interesting show, that is, if he could keep his temper in check enough for there to be a show. It wasn’t that he hated Bieber, not really, at least. It was just that having a rival around meant that the paparazzi would be out in full force, and if that wasn’t enough, from what he had heard and witnessed, the kid was more annoying than a swarm of mosquitoes on drugs. Yes, this whole façade was going to test his patience to the extreme. But he would do it, because Mokuba wanted him to. And Mokuba meant the world to him; even if it was in ways that he was unwilling to, ashamed to, admit.

The next three weeks, while hectic, passed relatively without glitches. Seto was snuck out of his penthouse hotel room before the crack of dawn, and spent the four hour drive to Los Angeles in the black limo asleep with his head propped against Isono’s shoulder. The journey into the new hotel was a bit more difficult, as it was mid-morning by then and the hordes of paparazzi and fans that had somehow already discovered the location of his temporary residence were present en masse. The rest of the week had been spent practicing and visiting the location of the concert and approving lists and wardrobes and all matter of trivial things. It was not until the week of the impending event that anything truly interesting happened
***
Seto was wandering through the back halls of the concert hall, looking for Isono so that he could deliver a list of demands to whomever it concerned when he caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a young man following closely behind a small group of suits. Figuring it was some college student on an internship, Seto thought little of who it was. Whoever it was had short hazel-brown hair that reached down to the nape of his neck, a slim, fragile, and amazingly effeminate build, and was dressed simply in a maroon sweater, loose denim jeans and black converse sneakers. Seto was intrigued, and followed the party as they made their way down the hallway. He watched the sway of the boy’s hips as he walked, the way his soft hair wisped around his shirt collar. It transfixed him utterly. So much so, in fact, that he almost missed the boy’s name when one of the suits asked him a question. Almost, but not quite.

“Justin, do you know what you want as snack items in your dressing room yet?”

“Eh… I was thinking sandwiches and some Swedish fish. And strawberries!” The sweet, prepubescent voice answered.

But anything else the boy said was drowned out by the sounds of Seto’s thought processes grinding to a shuddering halt. Justin. It couldn’t be. But it had to be, there was no other person who could be back here, it was just too much of a coincidence for it to be anyone else. The boy he had been ogling, the one who had suddenly caused his pants to become uncomfortably tight was none other than his arch-rival. None other than Justin Bieber himself.
Just as Seto’s world was crashing down around his ears, Isono showed up on the scene, his face betraying some of the immense stress the man was feeling.

“There you are, Mr. Kaiba! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, I need your signature on the approval forms for the… are you alright, Sir, you look a tad off.”

It took Seto a minute to register that someone was talking to him, and another to register the concern in his assistant’s voice. “Hm? Oh, it’s you, Isono. I’m fine, don’t worry about it. What do you need? My signature? Here, let me see…” Seto took the proffered clipboard and after a quick glance penned his name with a flourish on the line indicated. Isono took the form back with a nod. As he turned to leave, Seto made to stop him, but a boyish voice interrupted him.

“Kaiba? As in Seto Kaiba?” With a soft groan the man in question turned towards the source of the voice to see the boy he had seen earlier standing in the middle of the hallway, brown eyes sparkling, and a questioning smile on his smooth, porcelain face.

“That would be me, yes. Why do you want to know, kid?”

The smile faded, but only slightly, as the boy held out his hand. “I’m Justin Bieber. I’m doing the show with you. But you know that, of course.” He laughed nervously. “I’ve always wanted to meet you.”

Seto eyed the younger man curiously, before hesitantly taking the proffered hand. It was smooth and warm, and he felt himself torn between wanting to let it go immediately or never let it go at all. The decision was made for him when Justin released his grip, and his arm fell almost uselessly back to his side. When he finally found his voice, he growled out “Well it looks like you have now. Do I meet your expectations?”

“I guess. I think I thought you’d be a bit happier, at least. Or, at least, less moody.”

“You can’t possibly expect me to act like a blathering puppy all the time, can you? I just act the way I do in front of cameras because I have to, and that’s it. You should’ve known better, kid. Aren’t you in showbiz too? You should know all about putting up a face for the masses to flock to.”

“Naw, I like letting people see me how I normally am. Anyways, it’s too hard to keep up two different personas.” Justin flashed his glowing, idiotic grin again, and scratched behind his ear.

“Well good for you then.” Seto crossed his arms, irritated at himself at how he couldn’t help but mentally trace the path of the boy’s tongue as it passed briefly across his lips. “Do you want anything else, kid, because I’m a busy man. I have things to do.”

Justin looked taken aback slightly, but shrugged in a nonchalant way. “Not really, no. Just wanted to introduce myself. Thought it might be good to know the person I’d be singing on stage with, that’s all. I’ll see you around, Seto!”

“I didn’t say you could call me by my first name you….” But Justin was already running off down the hall and around the corner. Seto bristled slightly in agitation as he turned around and headed back to the main area of the building, Isono trotting faithfully in his wake. The nerve of that boy. This was going to be a long week, indeed.

That night his dreams were filled with the slender lines of the teenager. His soft hair between his fingers, his delicate pink lips against heated flesh, the cool, pale, perfect skin of dreams exposed and flushed in pleasure. Seto awoke bathed in sweat and sticky from his own fluids. He blushed heavily as he recalled the nocturnal images. He hadn’t had a dream like that in a long time, not since… no; it wasn’t well to dwell on the past.
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

BABY BABY - A YGO FANFICK