Adult-FanFiction.org : Yu-Gi-OH

Sins of the Flesh	By : NihilEtNemo Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 10611 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1--01-
- 2--02-
- 3--03-
- 4--04-
- 5--05-
- 6--06-
- 7--07-
- 8--08-
- 9--09-
- 10--10-
- 11--11-
- 12--12-
- 13--13-
- 14--14-
- 15--15-
- 16--16-
- 17--17-
- 18--18-
- 17
- 18
Sins of the Flesh
- 18 -

“Seto-chan, put your dress on.”

The girl looked up from her vigil as she sat cross-legged by the window, blue eyes now narrowed at the cute blue outfit the matron held. It wasn't that bad, really... for a dress. It was, however, still a dress. “No, I won't...” she said calmly. “That thing is hideous.”

The woman, solidly built, her black hair pulled into a strict bun, and somewhat harried-looking, sighed and came into the room. “Kaiba-sama is coming to give you all gifts; don't you want to look your best for him?” For some reason she hadn't yet learned that wheedling didn't work, because she wasn't a child to be turned from her objectives by false adult-logic. Reasoning didn't work, either; she could out-think the adults around her. Ordering didn't work, because they had no authority over her. Punishing didn't work, because it didn't affect her.

There was no way to make Seto wear that damned dress.
“I do look my best.” She turned her attention back toward the window, a slim androgynous figure in loose jeans, a button down shirt, and a sweater vest, brown hair combed neatly in the boyishly short style she had always favored. If one didn't know, it was easy to mistake her for a boy; she liked that fact, actually. Living up to society's ideas of gender roles was for people who didn't care enough to defy them.

Seto had always been a rebel.
“Seto-chan,” the woman tried again, sitting down beside her. “It's not pink. There's no lace or ruffles. See?” She displayed the dress in her lap. The lines were simple and neat, the color was a navy blue, and there were no accessories to speak of. They'd done their best to make it the least girly it could possibly be and still be a dress. They had to; she refused utterly to wear traditional clothes either, because she looked stupid, in her own esteemed opinion, since she didn't look Japanese at all. Of the limited options, it was better to look girly in Western clothes than like a poser in Japanese. Then again, she hadn't worn a dress, either, since she was three and started choosing her own clothes. It was hopeless.

She shook her head, getting tired of arguing. “I'm not going to wear that. Mokuba and I are ready; the other girls might need your help.”

The woman sighed and heaved herself up from the floor. “All right,” she said, but her voice took on an edge. “I don't think you understand how important this day is.”

Seto smiled a little bit as she left, watching the window and rubbing her thumb over the edge of the locket, waiting for opportunity. Only the most important day of her life...

“Seto!”

He jerked, pushing away from the hands on his shoulder instinctively, sitting up and wiping his face so that no trace of any emotions would show, already murmuring “Hai, otou-sama?”
“'Otou'... What the fuck?” The hands on his arm fell away and he blinked, trying to clear his head. That voice... It wasn't his voice...
“Gozaburo used to wake him up at night for lessons and... other things...” That was Mokuba's voice, from a lot further away. The doorway, as a matter of fact, he saw when the looked. And it was Bakura on the bed with him, face full of concern and confusion...

He pushed Bakura away, both alarmed and ashamed. He already knew what had happened...
“What was going on?” Bakura asked as he obediently fell back, giving him his space. “You were yelling in your sleep.”
“Just a dream,” he muttered, sliding away from Bakura. “You can leave now.”

Of course, though, he wouldn't. No one ever listened to him... “Dream? Must have been one bad fucking dream. One weird fucking bad fucking dream. You were screaming at someone to wear a dress.”

Mokuba covered his mouth with one hand, as Seto looked away, ashamed all over again. “Oh, Seto...” he breathed, voice as full of sadness as Bakura's was of gruff concern... Why didn't they understand that he didn't want their fucking pity? Even Mokuba didn't, wouldn't, just leave him the hell alone... It would be so much easier...

Then Mokuba wrapped his arms around him, and he couldn't refuse the hug. He put an arm around his little brother's back and rested his chin on his head, staring blankly at the wall.
“I don't get it.” Bakura's interruption was blunt, tactless, and all too welcome.
“Go away, Bakura,” Mokuba ordered, raising his head to look over Seto's shoulder at him.

There was a quiet growl from Bakura, but Seto's “Mokuba, stop it,” cut it off. He could feel both of them looking at him in shock. “I usually dream memories,” he explained to Bakura. “That's the day I forced him to adopt us. I should have worn the damned dress...”

Mokuba pulled away from him; he could read in his body language that he was hurt. He didn't want to share him with Bakura. With any luck, he'd get over it on his own... He didn't draw attention to it.

Bakura suddenly made an unforeseen intuitive leap. “It's those dreams that make you afraid of me again!” He blinked at him, surprised. Maybe he did have the brain capacity of a human being after all. “Shit, hime!”

Mokuba remained uncharacteristically silent.

Seto shook his head. "It's not important. Will you get out now? I want to get some sleep tonight."

Bakura slid off the bed. "Okay, fine. As long as you promise not to dream about me."

"Fine. Whatever. Leave."

Bakura lingered a moment, and Mokuba silently passed him and exited without a look back. Seto pointedly ignored Bakura, and after a moment he left as well, shutting the door quietly behind him. Seto lay down to go back to sleep.

The ceiling had sunlight on it.

Maybe that was a normal first thing to notice when waking up, lying on your back... Seto didn't know. It was one of the strangest experiences of his life, waking up, not already running for the bathroom, or shoving someone away, or wiping away tears. He just... woke up. If he'd dreamed any more, he couldn't remember what it was about... Obviously not Bakura.

When was the last time he'd simply woken up in the morning? The be blunt, he thought he'd probably still had a vagina. Maybe even parents. It was something he wished he'd have an opportunity to get used to... As it was, he savored it while it was there.

Stretching, eyes squeezing closed as his legs pushed out from under the covers and his hands brushed the wall over his head, he gave a contented yawn.

Wait. Why was there sunlight on the ceiling? He should have been up an hour ago...

He rolled out of bed and looked at the clock. Six in the morning; yes, an hour ago... He stripped and threw his pajamas toward the corner on the way to the bathroom, fingers making the daily check of the bulge, the bump he refused to think of as a little person. Invisible if you weren't looking for it, and even if you were, it wouldn't be obvious... He knew what it was because he already knew he was pregnant. Ditto Bakura and Mokuba, but no one else should see it yet.

Just to make sure, he paused in the bathroom and turned to view his profile in the mirror. Either he was fooling himself, or it really was still too small... Good. Now if only it would stay that way.

He took a ten minute shower and was dried and dressed in another five. After a moment's fight with himself, he took the little bottle of perfume from the dresser and sprayed it into the air, where he could smell it while it dissipated... but he stayed out of the cloud. He couldn't afford even that small a slip; his smell would have to remain nondescript to masculine. That was why he grabbed the cologne – he didn't even like it much, but it was musky and had a tendency to linger, and leave a lasting impression behind him. Certainly not an effeminate scent.

Ready for school, he grabbed the briefcase that did quadruple duty as a school bag, laptop case, card case, and, oddly enough, actual briefcase. Still more than an hour before they had to leave for school. So...

He brought it downstairs to wait for his brother and started the laptop to work in the time he had left.

After ten minutes or so, Mokuba breezed through the room. “Hi Seto,” he said. Seto grunted, and then he was gone, already out the other side.
A few minutes passed while Seto lost himself in work. Then the couch dipped and he was tugged laptop and all across Bakura's lap. For a moment, he glared and tried to push him away.
“Careful,” Bakura said, holding aloft a steaming cup. “You're going to spill my coffee.”
“Let me off your lap and I won't,” he pointed out.
Bakura shrugged. “We're married. Get used to it. We're supposed to be madly in love, so we should probably do more than try to kill each other.”
“That's what all married couples do. We just skipped all the interim.”
“From what I understand the interim is pretty fun...”
Seto glared at him a bit more. “Let me up,” he finally repeated.
“Nope.” Bakura wrapped an arm around his waist and sipped from the cup.
“Then let me have some of that coffee.”
Bakura scowled. “This is my coffee. Get your own.”
“Who paid for it?”
Bakura grumbled and handed the cup to him. He accepted it without a word, leaning back against the arm of the couch and taking a sip as he looked back at where he was on the screen, making sure to dig his tailbone into the meaty part of Bakura's leg so that he would think twice about doing this again. The coffee was actually pretty good, too; it was with reluctance that he returned it to Bakura.
His husband craned his head to see what he was doing. “No wonder you use your office to cry, you do all your work at home when you should be relaxing.”
“I don't use my office to cry,” he said in irritation. “I use it to get away from stupid people, who have apparently learned to get around security...”
The thief snorted. “Security? I never saw any.”
“You're not supposed to. But they don't expect people to just walk right in, either.”
Bakura shrugged. “Best way to get what you want.”
From the doorway, Mokuba cleared his throat. Seto glanced up to see him looking at them as though they were doing something wrong, hands on his hips and a look on his face. Seto felt the perverse urge to ask if he was going to ground them or something. At times it was more than a little obvious who was really in control here.
“Yes?” he asked instead.
Mokuba swept them both with a glare, then wordlessly turned on his heel and disappeared.
“He hates me,” Bakura said, and Seto turned to look at him instead.
Then he shrugged. “Kids almost always hate the stepmother.”
“Step-what? Sorry, Seto-hime, I'm not the one who had the surgeries.”
“I've been his father for longer than I was his mother, and nearly as long as I was his sister. You're the stepmother, and he probably will hate you for a long time, but he'll either get over it or you'll mysteriously disappear.”
“You're not encouraging me.”
“I'm sorry; did it seem like I was trying to?”

Bakura rolled his eyes. “I'm serious. The kid's a brat who walks all over you. What happens if he does snap? Hell, what if he gets all threatened by the kid and goes after it?”
“Knock if off, Bakura,” he said sharply. “Mokuba's just trying to protect me, and himself, and his place with me, from you. You've already shown several times that you're not trustworthy and you're dangerous, so that's perfectly reasonable. He is not, however, a psychopath, and he isn't going to do anything to harm this child. He already cares about it more than I do.”

His husband frowned. “How's that possible? You're the mother.”

He shrugged without looking away from the computer screen. “Right now it's an inconvenience. Nothing else. A damned... enormous... giant inconvenience...”
“No maternal instincts whatsoever?” Bakura looked at him; he seemed more interested than alarmed or disgusted.
“No... Do I look maternal to you? Anyway, it's only three months along. It's a bump, not a baby. You don't have 'maternal instincts' that early.”
“Yeah you do.” Bakura took a loud sip of his coffee.

He snorted. “How would you know?”
“Back home, unless you were nursing there was a pretty good chance you were pregnant. I've seen my share of pregnant women. Avoided them when possible, but seen them, and had to listen to a few scream about their babies when I couldn't even see they were pregnant.”

Seto stopped typing and glanced toward the wall across the room, over the screen, with a frown. Great... Something else that was broken with him... That brought up a whole nother set of panicky questions. What if he still couldn't care about it after it was born? Visions of post-partem depression, of snapping when it wouldn't stop crying and just shaking it until it was brain damaged, or gods forbid even dead, flashed through his mind. Kami, what was wrong with him? Weren't you supposed to love your children? He didn't think he'd been ruined that completely...
“Come on,” Bakura said, shifting him back off his lap and finishing the coffee. “Time for school. Let's go, hime.”
“Will you stop calling me that?” He saved and powered down the laptop, sliding it into the briefcase.
“Not anytime soon, no.” He stood up and pull the briefcase off the couch; it hit the ground and Bakura was bent over with a comical expression of surprise. “What the hell do you have in here?”
“Cards. Papers. Files. A computer. A gun.”
“You have a gun in your briefcase,” he repeated, standing up and hefting it off the ground.
“Just a small one.” To him, it wasn't particularly heavy; he took it from him without a complaint. “Mokuba!” he called as he headed toward the door.
“I'm here.” Mokuba met him, coming down the stairs, and then beat them both outside, disappearing into the limo. Seto watched him go quietly and held the door open for Bakura before sliding in next to his brother, setting the case on the floor behind his legs. He was still getting used to have three people in here. Especially when Bakura decided he needed to sit beside him, smushing them all into one seat. Not that it was too small, it was just more crowded than normal.

Mokuba solved it by glaring at Bakura, then moving to the other seat and glaring at him from his improved vantage point. Electing to ignore it, Seto settled himself near the door as the car started moving. Bakura stayed right beside him, though, as though he were glued to his side. His irritation knew no bounds.
“Stop crowding me,” he ordered.
“I'm not crowding you, I'm sitting by you. We're married.”
“Stop using that as an excuse for everything you do; even if I liked you I wouldn't want you six inches away from me at all times. Get on your side of the seat and stay there.”
“I don't have to do-”

Seto placed one hand on Bakura's arm and shoved him over against the other door. “Stay.”

Oddly enough, Bakura growled but complied, glaring out the window and crossing his arms moodily, but Seto ignored his attitude; as long as he was doing as he said, that was fine by him.

Mokuba's school was first. “Have fun,” Seto told him as he slipped out, and Mokuba even graced him with a small smile before he ran off to the school, leaving him alone with Bakura and the driver, whose name and face were both lost somewhere in the recesses of his memory, he saw him so little.
“Can I touch you now?” Bakura asked from the other side of the car.
“No; why would that have changed just because Mokuba left?”

The thief shrugged and looked back out the window. “I thought you might have just been doing it because he didn't want to see it.”
“Believe it or not, unless it's directly for Mokuba, I very rarely do things based on what Mokuba wants.” He frowned slightly, looking at Bakura. Why the hell was he always trying to touch him now? “But fine,” he relented, “for the rest of the ride.”

He saw a fang in Bakura's smile, then there was an arm wrapped around his waist, tugging him close. He leaned most of his weight against Bakura, though he didn't relax completely. Thus the drive passed, in silence that was neither completely comfortable nor completely uneasy, a wary sort of accepted silence. Partly it remained because Seto was afraid of what might happen if he broke it; the first words out of his mouth might have been something about how nice Bakura smelled...

Today, there was a much smaller mob of girls waiting to dry hump him or rip Bakura to pieces; apparently the authority figures had gotten through... or the others were in detention right now. They avoided them fairly easily and got back into the school.

There was a note on Seto's locker; he plucked it off, and Bakura tugged his arm down so that he could read it with him, one arm looped around his waist. He snorted and crumpled it into a ball after he'd read it, tossing it into the trashcan.
“What did it say?” Bakura asked.
“Weren't you reading it?”
“You threw it away too fast.”
“It said 'I know everything, meet me behind the school'.” His locker slammed as he closed it again.

Bakura frowned as him as he walked with him. “So why aren't you worried? Did I miss something? You went ballistic when the others knew, and I don't see why this can't be true.”
“Of course it could be true.” Seto sat in his seat, briefcase beside the legs. “But no, I'm not worried.” Bakura sat on his desk and crossed his legs, waiting for an explanation. “Firstly, she was too stupid to leave a time, or a location 'behind the school', so she obviously doesn't have a particularly good plan.”
“'She'?” Bakura echoed, one eyebrow raised.
“The handwriting,” Seto said indifferently. “Secondly, even if so, there's no way to avert the danger short of having her killed and then killing that hitman myself, just in case she tells him. That's messy, and I place my faith in human stupidity and cowardice; nothing is going to come of this.”

The thief frowned a little, watching him with dark brown eyes. “I don't like taking this chance,” he finally said. “I'll meet her and take care of her.”
“No,” Seto said. “You aren't a hitman or an attack dog; I don't trust how neat you'll be, for one.” And he'd rather no one else die in his name. “Now get off my desk before the teacher sees you.”

Bakura snorted, but slid down. “I'm very neat,” he informed him, and Seto could swear he intentionally brushed his hand over his arm as he moved forward to his seat. He couldn't be sure, though... maybe it was just how his hand happened to fall. Obviously he couldn't bitch at him for that...

By the time it was time for P.E., he had put it out of his mind, and even allowed Bakura to keep his arm around him as they walked through the hall. If he could forget who it was, where they were, and what he was supposed to be feeling, it was actually an almost nice feeling... Strange as it was to be held, he needed it, once in a while, and Mokuba's arms frankly weren't big enough. Or maybe it was that Mokuba was his brother, but Bakura... wasn't. Either way, it was nice.

There was a wolf whistle as they entered the locker room, and the assemblage (of only about a dozen teenage boys) began to laugh. Seto had a hard time telling mocking laughter from friendly, good-spirited, so he assumed they were being mocked and glared at everyone, walking through the room to his locker with Bakura still attached to him.

At least Bakura managed to let him go so that he could undress; it would have been difficult otherwise. He dressed swiftly, but then had to spend some time contemplating his jewelry. Would it be in the way? Normally he took the locket off only when absolutely necessary – when he was showering, for instance, so that it wouldn't be ruined – but in P.E. It was always a hard decision. He'd never worn a ring before; he had no idea whether it would get in the way or not.

Finally, he decided to leave it where it was and slammed the locker shut, wedding ring and locket still in place. Bakura's arm snaking around his waist again didn't affect him, but the bright voice from one side made him jump.
“Putting on weight, Kaiba?”
Seto stiffened in Bakura's arm, somehow still conscious of the smell of him in a surreal moment of clarity. Probably induced by shock. Second trimester. He was showing. He was showing and Jounouchi fucking Katsuya was going to tell everyone...
“Shut your fucking yap,” Bakura growled, pulling Seto close to him. The brunet couldn't resist, still frozen in shock. “Before I come over there and shut it for you.”
“Yeah, yeah, just shittin'. Don't get your panties in a bunch, Kaiba.”
Kami-sama. They were never going to stop, were they? It wasn't going to end. His past and his pregnancy were going to be fodder for their ridicule and private jokes and public digging when he couldn't retaliate, because any reaction on his part would condemn him, reveal him, destroy him...
Bakura growled under his breath and rubbed his side, pulling him close. “It's okay,” he breathed quietly. “He can't see it. He's just being a fucking retard.” His hot breath on his neck was as calming as his words, somehow. Being wrapped in his arms felt indescribably safe, at least from Jounouchi and his ilk.
If nothing else, he could at least tell him to sic him.
The idea of at least having Bakura's psychopathic tendencies at his disposal was reassuring. He nodded once to him and silently escaped his arms, heading out into the gym.
It was several minutes before anyone joined him, and he leaned against the wall, tapping his fingers impatiently. He'd thought Bakura was right behind him. When the door opened finally, it was Bakura and Bakura alone that came through, and leaned against the wall beside him, silent and brooding. Seto almost wished he would touch him again, just so that he wouldn't look so angry. It disconcerted him... threatened him. The frustrating, frustrated, direct and firm but ultimately harmless Bakura he had gotten used to and could live with, not this angry Bakura... Even if he was angry for him, not at him...
As though he read his thoughts, Bakura's arm looped around his waist again, tucking him closer. Neither of them said anything; it was probably better that way.
The teacher had arrived and given them a look before anyone else came out of the locker room. The other boys grouped a dozen feet away from them, occasionally shooting dark glances their way.
Then Yuugi hurried in, completely late, his yami looking somewhere between amused and annoyed behind him. They'd missed the entire exchange, and so there was a moment where Yuugi just looked confused at the split class before joining his friends.
Seto wondered a moment why he was so confused. He always stood alone, after all; there was nothing different here. It occurred to him then that it was either because Bakura was standing alone with him, or because they looked like the main part of the class and everyone else were the ones ostracized.
And he'd chosen to be ostracized with his retard friends. How touching.
“Now that you're all finally here...” the teacher started, and Yuugi looked away innocently.
“What did you do?” Seto asked Bakura in an undertone, letting class proceed without his attention.
“Don't worry about it. The mutt and the monkey'll learn to keep their damned mouths shut now, though.”
Seto looked over the group of students. Jounouchi was occasionally giving them icy glances and then looking away again. Honda just seemed mildly surly; it was a change, but for the better, since at least now he had a personality. Ryou was looking at the floor, utterly preoccupied.
“What did you tear into Ryou about?”
“Rabbit? Nothing, I haven't talked to him.” His husband turned his head to look at them.
“Why are you referring to your classmates as animals?”
“I felt like it.”
“Do you always think of them that way?” They moved apart with the rest of the class to start their exercises.
“Sometimes. You started it with calling Jounouchi a dog.”
“Finally, it's catching on.” He watched Bakura stretch appreciatively for a moment. With his arms over his head, his shirt pulled up and revealed a tan strip of skin below his navel. Just enough to be tantalizing. “What animal am I?”
Bakura snorted, arms lowering to his side again, mercifully hiding his flesh from him. “Like you need to ask.”
His eyebrows climbed as he finally put his eyes back on Bakura's face. “What?”
The thief watched his face a second, then grinned when he apparently realized he really didn't already know. “Ryuu-hime.”
He had to snort. “'Dragon-princess'? Can't you be more creative?” Still, the idea that Bakura considered him a dragon sent a warm little flush through him. Still could have done without the princess half, though.
“You know you love it.”
He elected not to answer the smug look on his face. “What about the others?”
“Which others?” he asked, then answered himself. “Pharaoh's a fox.”
“Fox?”
“Yeah... He's got that pointy little face and always looks like he's about to eat you. And he does the puppy eyes so well for Yuugi.”
That earned another snort, mostly by being true. “And Yuugi?”
“Hn... Squirrel, I think. Hyperactive little chibi freak.”
“Gentlemen,” the teacher called out, rudely interrupting. “Less talking.”
“Mazaki is some sort of squawking parrot thing,” Bakura went on, ignoring him. “You saw that she was back, right?”
“Yeah, I saw her.” After Jounouchi's comment in the locker room, he refused to do anything that would throw his stomach into more definition than absolutely necessary, so that mostly left him to stand around and look imposing. “What about Mokuba?”
“Mokuba?” He looked thoughtful. “Huh, I hadn't though about it. Guess he's a lemur.”
“A lemur? What the hell kind of answer is that?”
“I don't know... A hedgehog then?”
Seto rolled his eyes. “My brother is not a hedgehog.”
“I don't know, with that hair... I heard they have a temper, too. Cuddly but vicious.”
“Not a hedgehog,” he stated firmly.
Bakura rolled his eyes, but decided that probably meant the conversation was over, falling silent and idly stretching while they listened to the muted chatter around them.
Seto watched his abs for a moment, wondering idly how he kept his muscle tone when he didn't ever seem to exercise, and not regretting the fact that he did at all, before making his wandering eyes go back to his face again. Stay. Good eyes. “He might be a wallaby.”
Bakura half choked. “A wallaby? Like a miniature fucking kangaroo?”
He smirked. “Yes, precisely like that. Constantly hopping around, and they have those dangerous front claws made for digging that he could easily take your eyes out with.”
Bakura chuckled. “Nah. He's a Tasmanian Devil.”
He grinned. People were looking at them now, no doubt wondering what was going on, why Kaiba Seto would grin, but he hardly noticed. He was allowed to have his fun too... “A koala.”
“A platypus.”
If they thought it was strange to see him grin, it must have about knocked them over when he had to turn his face away, laughing quietly and trying to hide it. Bakura tugged him close and he allowed himself to snigger into his neck, holding onto him to keep himself steady. He could feel Bakura laughing against him as well, as his hands rested lightly on his hips, holding him gently in place. It wasn't a bad feeling at all.
“Kaiba, Bakura, separate,” the teacher snapped. “Bakura, switch with one of the Mutous.”
“Hey!” Yuugi yelped.
Seto raised his head from Bakura's shoulder and glared at her. The laughter had stopped, obviously, and Bakura's muscles had gone tense. Seto was considering. Was it worth wielding his clout over this and getting into a little power struggle?
“Go on,” he finally told his husband.
Bakura growled but let him go, turning away. He pushed Yuugi out of the way and grinned darkly to the pharaoh, receiving only an intense look in return. Seto imagined they were both going to end up in the infirmary after this.
Yuugi watched them for a second, then came to join him. “Hi, Kaiba-kun.”
He grunted a little in response, officially just waiting for the class to end.
“Anzu-chan wanted to talk to you.”
“Is that who that was.”
“Who what was?” Yuugi looked confused.
“Nothing.”
“Um... kay.”
Now that he wasn't having fun with Bakura – strange as that idea was – the class dragged by. Frankly, he had little to no use for Yuugi's company. Bakura and the Pharaoh didn't even do anything to entertain him, since the teacher promised severe detentions for the next person to step out of line, and for some reason that actually stopped Bakura.
When they could finally go back into the locker room, Seto was relieved enough at having something to do aside from pointless physical exercise that he barely noticed the more subdued behavior of the others. Everyone stopped talking when Bakura entered behind everyone else, though, and even he noticed that, glancing over with his shirt suspended around his arms in front of his chest.
Bakura completed his glare around the room with a grin at him. He twitched an eyebrow upward, but Bakura didn't deign to answer and he chose not to press it. His shirt obscured his vision for a second, then settled around his body, and over Bakura's arm, since he'd apparently decided not to keep his distance again.
Making a noise that translated as 'do you mind?', he shrugged him off; Bakura obliged just long enough for him to get his shirt on properly before putting his arm back. Deciding not to fight a lost cause, he let him keep it there.
“So peachy bitch is the one who wanted to talk to you.” Bakura was somehow managing to get dressed with one hand.
“I suppose so.”
“You going to talk to her?”
“I already told you, no.” He grabbed his briefcase and started walking. Bakura's arm fell away, but he caught up at about the same time as he hit the door.
“Even with her creepy note?” Bakura gallantly held the door for him.
“Even so.” The door fell shut behind them. “What did you do to them all?”
The thief looked over his shoulder, then grinned. “I put the mutt in his place. They're all fucking wimps.”
A frown crossed his face, and he increased his pace, making Bakura hurry to keep up with him. “I don't need you to fight my battles for me,” he said when it became obvious he wasn't going to lose him.
He snorted. “Yeah, I know. People expect it, though, and I'm not going to let anyone get away with being an asshole to my husband.”
Noting the stress on the possessive, Seto glared at him. He didn't much seem to care. “I'm not. Hime.”
He scowled, but didn't fight him. He could really do without that nickname in public...
Bakura's hand shifted and he pulled him tighter against him so that he could feel this stomach. Seto stiffened slightly, and his pace slowed, as he looked sharply at Bakura.
“Aren't you supposed to be going to the doctor soon?” he said casually. Seto knew the comment meant nothing, not a thing, to anyone else, but still...
“Can this wait?” he asked sharply.
“Just a question.”
“We'll discuss it later.”
Bakura didn't answer, but his hand didn't leave his stomach, either.

------------------------
--AUTHOR'S NOTE - 02/11/11--

This story has been abandoned. Reasons:
-I no longer like OOC uke Seto. He's way too OOC to fix here.

-Discouragement over how much more there is actually left to write.

-The story is old and crappy.

I'm very sorry to everyone who wanted it finished, and thank you for your reviews and interest, but it is dead.
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Sins of the Flesh