Chapter Text
The sleet fell heavily against the car, turning the view through the windshield into an impressionist painting of abstract asphalt and splotchy red break lights. The drives to the private airport in Westchester were always the worst. Even though Kaiba rarely accompanied the kids on the flight from Japan, even the haunting proximity to the shiny private jets and the trappings of his ex put Joey on edge. Not because he longed to be driving the expensive cars parked in the lot or any other petty envy, but because the whole place always reeked of Kaiba’s ghost. How the man could haunt the freeways and tangled overpasses from thousands of miles away was yet another unsettling superpower of his ex-husband.
The sleet, the traffic, and the eerie nature of the drive allowed frustrated ruminations to wind their way into Joey’s head. Like the suction cups on the edges of an octopus’s tentacles, little doubts and regrets clung to his mind.
Was it petty to fly the kids back and forth from Japan in the dead of winter for only a week? Yes, of course it was. But the custody arrangement hadn’t even demanded that Joey allow that week. The kids were in school in New York, and it was his year to spend Christmas with them. They spent the full summer break in Japan every year. It was Joey’s only time of year—and even then, only every other year—where they all could spend time off together. He didn’t want to give it up without a fight. And Joey was still a fighter.
When Mokuba had announced his wedding date for the first week of the kids’ Winter break, Joey was so tempted to force some other concession out of Kaiba. Joey had been invited as well, but the thought of attending turned his stomach something fierce. He could see it in his minds’ eye: watching his family, his children, and his closest friends, dressed to the nines, celebrating something so pure. And him, looking at the ruins of the most significant relationship of his life. It felt like a mockery, to stand there and watch Mokuba enter a beautiful marriage while he stewed in the wreckage of his own. Plus, Joey’s self-destructive streak was supposed to have died with his relationship.
So, what remained was that precious promise: every other winter break. And this one was his. Sure, his ex-husband was one of the greatest negotiators in the business world, but Joey had thrilled, just a little, and with more than a little guilt, at the thought of bringing him to his knees over this. The opening was his to take.
He hadn’t quite calculated all the way out—indeed, the long game was Seto’s specialty. And once Atticus had been informed that he would be both a performer at his uncle’s wedding reception, it was game over for Joey.
Of course, that was so Kaiba, ever on the offensive, always flipping the script. Stuck negotiating over Christmas and coming to this frustrating solution. He was a cruel rival and a bitter adversary. An altogether dreadful ex-husband.
Weaponizing Atticus’s precious enthusiasm was a perfect move. Which left Joey messing with the logistics and driving in this awful weather.
. . .
The radio had droned on about an incoming polar vortex. How could the weatherman have known that his ex-husband would be on the plane?
Joey hadn’t noticed him at first—he was too busy catching Atticus’s tackle hug, and patting Alexis gently on the head. All that warmth and love had blinded him to the frigid bastard standing at the other side of the gate.
But one his heart was full again, the primal part of Joey’s brain was triggered. Like he could sense the predator lurking, he looked up and saw those stupidly long limbs. He’d know that silhouette from a mile away. “What’re you doin’ here?” Joey shouted. It was so reflexive that he forgot to hide the vitriol from the kids.
Kaiba stalked over slowly, as if he was trying to take too long, waste all of Joey’s time. “Waiting on my return flight plan,” Kaiba said. His voice had gotten more gravelly over the years, but his cadence remained almost robotic.
“Alexis was scared of flying home in the storm!” Atticus laughed, still embracing his father. “And she said the only way she’d fly back was if Oto-san promised he’d pilot! It was so cool dad! Did you know he could fly planes?!”
Joey forced his mouth into a pinched smile. “I did know that. That was very nice of him.”
Kaiba looked at him. “The children anticipated being in New York for Christmas. I am still a man of my word.” Joey wondered if he was tired from the 14 hour flight—he certainly didn’t look any worse for wear.
Frankly, he didn’t look much different than the last time he had seen him, three years before. He was still unfairly trim and perfectly composed. The only noticeable changes were the introduction of a few grey hairs, scattered among the deep brown and a pair of wire-frame glasses that looked like he’d always had them. His black turtleneck was as clean and tight fitting against the prominent muscles of his shoulders and chest as it had been. His dark jeans were still the same stupid level of tight that looked a little like he hadn’t realized he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Between the black Armani loafers and black Burberry trench, he looked like he was about to return to a casual Friday in the Financial District and get drinks at the most expensive bar he could find.
Joey had not anticipated seeing anyone other than his kids, and maybe Isono, and felt instantly exposed. Without the pressure of having to be Kaiba’s arm candy at events, Joey had put on a fair amount of weight, and settled into something of a dad-bod. He was wearing his comfiest jeans and a puffy winter coat. The worst part was the recognition in Kaiba’s eyes—it was the same coat he’d had when they were living together, only more faded and a little tattered at the edges and unzipped. It revealed a shirt that he’d acquired as a volunteer at a concert-fundraiser for Atticus’s youth orchestra. It was an unnecessarily bright green, mercifully faded by the washing machine. His white chunky sneakers looked just like ones he had in high school—and only a little less scuffed up. Overall, the look was one meant for a quick trip to the grocery store, and the last thing he’d wanted be wearing to see his ex-husband for the first time in years. Joey braced for some comment to that effect.
“Well, I’m glad they’re here. We should get going, after all—how many days are there until Christmas?” Joey asked Alexis.
“Five!” She announced.
“Yep! And the tree isn’t even up yet!” Joey said, in mock shock, and smiled at the kids’ surprised faces.
While Atticus was bemoaning how much crucial Christmas celebrating needed to be done in the next five days, a member of the airport staff approached Kaiba. Kaiba stepped away to discuss the flight plan, but Joey kept an ear out. It’s not eavesdropping if it’s your ex-husband, after all.
“Mr. Kaiba, this airport is being closed, effective immediately. The entire metropolitan area is bracing for a significant blizzard, and you are absolutely not cleared to fly.”
Joey couldn’t make out his husband’s harsh whispers, but relished in how they were tinged with a light panic. At least the bastard was freaking out a little. It felt nicer than he would ever admit to know that he made his terrifying ex-husband a little scared.
“Mr. Kaiba, we cannot permit that. I will personally be turning off all lights on the runway and not approving any plans that you submit. It could not possibly be worth dying to avoid spending a few days in New York.”
“That is not your determination to make!” Kaiba’s voice was slightly heated, which was another signal that Joey had gotten to him.
“I’m sorry sir. You are a valued customer, but it would be deadly for you to depart at this time, and I refuse to be a part of such a flight plan. As soon as I can permit take-off, I will personally contact you.”
With that terse statement, the administrator marched off.
Kaiba stared at the ground with a combination of fury and focus. After a few terse breaths, he whipped out his phone and began tapping away.
Joey was about to tell the kids to say Goodbye Oto-san! But deep down, Joey had done the math too.
“Dad, is Oto-san going to be able to stay with us for Christmas?” Alexis said, looking up with pleading eyes. “Like we’re a family again?”
Alexis was smart as hell, and even at age six was a master of strategy. Someday, Joey thought, she’ll be devastatingly skilled at Duel Monsters. Today, she was inconveniently cunning.
“It depends on what arrangements he wants to make,” Joey deflected, hating that an offer slipped through the cracks.
Kaiba looked up from his phone. For a second, he did look a bit tired from the flight. From his life. It was humanizing, and Joey tried to discard it.
“I could stay in a hotel in Manhattan, and visit,” Kaiba proposed, grip on the phone like a vice.
“That’s not what families do…” Alexis whined.
Kaiba’s jaw clenched. Joey was familiar with this face—Kaiba was acutely aware of his compromised position. It felt like they’d never finished the dreaded conversation. The energy that hung in the air was the same as that trite explanation of divorce.
It still was sickening when Atticus echoed the conversation from three years prior. “We’re still a family, Lexi. But Dad and Oto-san can’t stay in the same house anymore because it isn’t—”
It was too much, and Joey couldn’t help himself, “Of course your Oto-san can spend Christmas at the house. If that’s what he wants.”
“If I’m cleared to fly back to Domino sooner, of course I should return to work,” Kaiba answered the unspoken question, and trailed the group back to the car. Atticus was already sharing stories of how well his performance at the wedding had gone.
. . .
The house was a nice house—large enough, with a pretty backyard and a pool in a good neighborhood. It had more expansive grounds when they had been together, but the family didn’t even use the stables or tennis courts, and Joey had sold them off to people who would actually enjoy them. Kaiba had forced his hand when it came to the mortgage and upkeep, but other than the house and the kids’ schooling expenses, Joey had refused any formal alimony.
At the time, Joey had thought it was a brilliant plan. If Kaiba really wanted to value his work over all else, then he would have to suffer through watching all of that effort not change a damn thing for his family. Joey refused to be truly dependent, fifteen years of the golden handcuffs had been more than enough.
Now it was a little embarrassing that the house hadn’t changed a bit more. Since Kaiba had been gone, more of the children’s artwork graced the ornate walls. No interior decorators had been hired, so any new pieces of furniture clashed with the pre-existing scheme. It looked more lived-in, and Joey tried to take some pride in that.
Kaiba was examining a particularly poor crayon representation of the Red Eyes Black Dragon. The scale was completely off: the face was much too big and the eyes bulged grotesquely.
“Don’t say anything mean,” Joey whispered harshly at Kaiba. He was shocked when Kaiba obeyed him. “Now, who wants hot chocolate?” Joey offered, and the kids practically cheered. Atticus was en route to the kitchen already. “Seto, could you start a fire in the living room?”
Kaiba nodded, turning towards the room from perfect memory.
The milk was quickly heated, and the cocoa mix dissolved like magic, swirling into a pleasant warm desert within minutes. Joey had wondered if Kaiba would come into the kitchen to join the family, but he remained in the living room. The kids ran off to the playroom to mess with whatever new game Yugi had sent them home with.
In the soft lighting of the warm fire, Kaiba looked frustratingly, devastatingly, untouched by time. In brighter lights the fine webbing under his eyes and frustrated crease between his brows brought attention to forty years of an overburdened life.
But instead the fire burned away the years. With his glasses stowed away, he looked like the exact same man who he had fought with in the same damn seats three years ago. Hell, he looked like the same man he’d dueled on the beach of Duelist Kingdom island.
“How much do you want?” Kaiba had asked in that god-awful conversation. Kaiba spoke coldly, as if it wasn’t his husband standing before him but an uppity secretary demanding a raise.
Joey had the messy manilla folder out. The old prenup looked fresh other than the creased corner, the bends around the staple proving that someone had read it.
Without a word, he handed it over to his husband. Kaiba skimmed it, eyes quick and calculating. Then he tossed it in the fire.
“You’ve always been a terrible negotiator,” Kaiba said, pouring a bit more whiskey in the glass on the coffee table. The liquor was erasing the bored look in his eye. For the first time in a long time, Kaiba’s glare looked a little unhinged to Joey. Like he was as a teenager—barely suppressing his manic energy. Kaiba took a long, slow sip of his drink before returning to the conversation. “I’m not trying to hold out on the father of my children.”
“Say what you want, and it’s yours.” Kaiba’s words sounded completely empty of passion, drive. Everything that Joey had fallen in love with.
The combination of venom and possession in those words made Joey’s blood boil. How impersonal, as if there was no other important relationship there. Nothing else that he could recognize. Just the father of my children, like a job title. And wasn’t that just like Kaiba? Generosity as the ultimate weapon. Proving he cared so little for the entire situation by abdicating any role. Take whatever you want—none of it matters anyway.
With the paperwork in flames, Joey’s lawyer would have told him that he was entitled to half of everything his husband owned, including those valuable shares of Kaiba Corp. If Joey had been thinking cruelly and carefully, he might have realized then what he only contemplated years later: that he had been the only person who could have taken Kaiba Corporation away from Seto Kaiba without a fight. Those shares and the right collaborator… Joey could have taken the whole thing in a matter of months. Ousted Kaiba, put his ex of the street. Reminded Kaiba what that felt like.
But of course, Kaiba had played three steps ahead, and even his evaluation of Joey’s demands was insightful. He had correctly assumed that Joey wanted nothing to do with the company.
“I don’t want any money. I don’t need it. I can figure something out on my own. I don’t need you for that,” Joey said. Honda had been pissed at him about it when Joey had called the next morning to tell him that terrible bargaining position. Honda supported any way to make sure that Kaiba got the fullest “Fuck You” that Joey could manage, but he was floored that Joey wanted to have to work, and budget, and live like he hadn’t spent the last fifteen years of his life in a world where money was ethereal, unimportant. So plentiful that it had lost absolutely all value and meaning.
Kaiba laughed villainously into the whiskey, campfire scent bubbling up. “Keep the house. Our children shouldn’t have to move. This is more instability than they deserve anyway.”
Joey didn’t push the issue. The instability stung, and the fact that he repeated his parent’s pattern of getting divorced with young children was absolutely searing on his heart. Instead of mourning, he let the bitterness curdle. And Joey couldn’t help remarking, “I’d be surprised if they noticed a difference.”
Kaiba said nothing, kept his face schooled in that icy way that sickened the blond. But it was imperfect to the skilled observer, and his eyes heated up, eyelids becoming just a little wider.
“They should continue to attend their current schools, this cannot interfere with their education,” Kaiba droned, as if it was just another term of a perfectly standard consumer contract. “And they should spend the summer in Domino. We can switch off for the winter holidays.”
Part of Joey was waiting for Kaiba to suggest that they split the kids up. A perfect 50/50 of the children. It was the worst thing that Joey could think to do, really. Shove in Joey’s face that he had made the same mistakes as his parents, had learned nothing. Demonstrate, viscerally, that Joey was going to dissolve their marriage and hurt his kids in the same way that he had been hurt.
But it never came. In the moment Joey felt so defensive. So certain that Kaiba would exploit every vulnerability—that was the man he knew. Ruthless in every sense.
In the years that passed, Joey realized that he wouldn’t have married someone so evil that he’d do that. That Kaiba’s own pain should have been enough to guarantee he had no interest in splitting the siblings. But in the battleground that their living room had become, Joey couldn’t trust anything.
“Fine. But otherwise, I don’t want to see a cent of your goddamn money.”
This line, which Joey had considered so fucking crystal clear became the core of their most prominent post-break-up arguments.
Joey had always been a crowd favorite at the kids’ daycare, and his transition to part-time employee was seamless. A quick mention of the divorce was all that it took to silence any lingering questions. He was good with kids, warm and patient, and he wasn’t far from his own. The job paid enough, the hours weren’t demanding.
After Kaiba had returned to Domino City full time, the economics of the problem became apparent.
Simply put, the mansion upkeep was entirely unreasonable on Joey’s salary. Everyone was aware of this, especially Joey. He was planning on letting the gardens narrow to a level that he could manage on the weekends, drop the security teams, just let everything mellow out. The household manager was fired on day one. The maids on day two. The house was never as spotless, but the traces of dust and dirt were a small price to pay for the lived-in feel that grew.
But the bills never arrived. No emails, no letters, clearly they were rerouted. Gardeners that Joey had fired showed up Monday, as if they hadn’t gotten the news. No house staff returned without a request, and Joey really was going to let it slide.
But the next month Joey received a notice that the utilities had been overpaid. Not by a terribly extravagant amount, but by about a thousand dollars. Joey knew better, but he resisted looking the gift horse in the mouth for just one month and accept the refund.
The next month, the refund doubled, and Joey wasn’t going to take it. When Kaiba answered the phone, Joey didn’t even give him the opportunity to pick a greeting.
“I told you, I don’t want the money. I’m gonna send it back to you, what’s the address again?” Joey demanded.
“Put it in the children’s trusts. Put it towards—” Kaiba’s answer was harsh and quick.
“I don’t want the money, Kaiba. I don’t need it. They don’t need it. We’re fine without it.” Without you, Joey almost shouted. But Kaiba was smart enough, right? He should be able to understand that much.
“Fine.” Kaiba hung up first to spite Joey’s victory, but the refunds on the utilities stopped. Over the last few years there were a couple more schemes. Refunds from the school. Overpaid property taxes. Every time Joey whined to Honda, his friend told him to give up and just take it.
But Yugi had a different guess. Yugi pointed out that, well, every time Kaiba came up with a new way to slip money to Joey, Joey called to clear it up.
“I don’t know how many people he talks to, Jounouchi-kun, but maybe… he just wants to call.”
What an entirely too human thing for Joey’s ex-husband to do. “He has my number, if he wants to talk, he can try, instead of buying it.”
Yugi had shrugged and wisely changed the subject. The whole thing left an odd taste in Joey’s mouth. Even though Joey was the one who had asked for the divorce, Kaiba had done his utmost to seem entirely unaffected by the whole thing. Joey had been prepared for a knock down, drag out fight. Instead, Kaiba kept such an impartial face, it was as if the dissolution of their union didn’t perturb him in the slightest. As if it were some sort of contract terminated at inconvenient time, and no more.
Mind returning to the present, Joey scanned Kaiba’s face in the glow of the fire for any sign of humanity. Any indication that their separation had bothered Kaiba just a fraction of the way it had hurt Joey.
Finding none, Joey handed off the warm mug of hot cocoa. If Kaiba realized it wasn’t coffee, it didn’t show on his face.
“So, anyone miss me at the wedding?”
Kaiba gulped down some “Your friends were there, of course. I think they would have preferred to see you than me.” Kaiba took another pensive sip at the cocoa mug. “Atticus was right. His piano performance was excellent.”
Kaiba pulled out his phone. The screensaver of a Blue Eyes White Dragon melted into a sea of icons. KC must have released a new model in the intervening years. Joey took a bit of joy in the fact that he hadn’t even noticed.
The screen dissolved into Kaiba’s photo album within a few taps. The grid was full of almost identical images of their kids at the wedding, and Kaiba had to scroll for a bit before tracking down a video. It pricked at Joey’s chest, just a touch, to see how many duplicate photos Kaiba had taken of the little subjects.
Finally, Kaiba pressed play and there was nine-year-old Atticus, fluffy brown hair tamed in the back just barely in a tiny low ponytail. Between the hair and his light blue suit, he looked like a baby Mozart, Joey thought.
The image of him at the white grand piano began to move, and the boy played some classical music that Joey couldn’t identify if his life depended on it. It sounded pleasant, the notes flowing and smooth—clearly the little guy had been taking his lessons seriously.
“He is good, huh?” Joey smiled, looking at Kaiba. The radiant satisfaction in Kaiba’s eyes hurt to look at for too long.
Kaiba handed him the phone and stood up. “I’ll check on them. They’ve been quiet for too long, I don’t trust it.” Kaiba rose with his usual dignity. Even without the trench coat, the man swept out of the room with such presence. For better or worse, Joey’s house had lost the melodrama without him marching about.
His ex-husband’s phone sat heavy in his hands. The new release was slim, all flawless and shiny and new. It was a little hot. And it was unlocked. He could search through anything—did Kaiba really still trust him that much?
Joey smirked, and continued to look through the wedding pictures. The rest of the reception looked very precious. There were many attempts to capture a decent shot of Mokuba and his new wife Yui smiling with the kids. From the number of goofy pictures and the relative paucity of serious ones, it had been an uphill battle for Kaiba to get one decent picture that he could put on his desk.
The next series appeared to be taken by Atticus, a legendary phone thief, and was largely shots of Kaiba’s arms and hands grasping for his phone. Joey’s own phone had more than enough pictures like that, and sometimes he couldn’t bring himself to delete them either.
There were a couple of cute shots of Alexis challenging Yugi to a duel. She could read the majority of the cards. Joey didn’t know how she convinced Kaiba to let her bring her duel disk to the wedding, but he was always a sucker for the kids.
There were some pictures what were just Kaiba and Mokuba, and Joey couldn’t help but gaze at his ex-husband. Standing next to his brother with that small smile that looked so hauntingly like the photo in Mokuba’s locket.
They weren’t teenagers, but the pang in Joey’s chest was not convinced.
The next few photos hurt even more, just Kaiba and the kids. Alexis, duel disk still strapped faithfully to her arm, appeared to have requested to be held, and Atticus stood in front making little peace signs and sticking his tongue out.
Kaiba was smiling that tiny, genuine way—still. Through rows of photos, he didn’t stop, except for a few when Atticus jumped to try and steal his sister’s duel disk.
Joey’s eyes pricked with tears, and all of that curiosity was silenced. He had meant to do some snooping—follow up on some headlines about a secret lover that Honda had sent him—but any curiosity was stamped out.
Joey decided it was because he was sad to miss their friends, not their life together. And that everyone had been playing quietly for too long. He abandoned the phone on the couch to see what had happened in the playroom.
The playroom was a nice, cute space. Light blue walls, big windows facing the gardens, plush tan carpeting. Back when they had maids, the room was always tidy, but now Joey had given up. It was for the kids to play in, anyway, so if the train set and crayons and common Duel Monsters cards littered the floor, who really cared. Against the wall, there was a fairly large grey couch that had seen better days.
It was almost too much, to see Kaiba, passed out with a book in his lap, and the kids on either side snoring away. Alexis’ hair dripped over the side of the couch. Atticus was leaning against his father. Joey leaned over to collect Alexis first to take her to her bedroom.
The soft vision was hard to face, and Joey couldn’t resist the simple thought that “this is what I wanted.”
At the movement, Kaiba stirred.
Joey resisted smiling at the spacey, sleepy face. Kaiba blinked tiredly, slowly collecting himself and gathering his bearings. It took quite a lot of effort. “I’m putting them to bed,” Joey said. Kaiba nodded and ruffled Atticus’s hair.
By the time Atticus had been dropped off at his room, Kaiba was missing. But Joey had a decent guess where to find him.
. . .
“So, who’s the secret lover?” Joey asked, wandering into the room that had once been Seto’s study. Joey hadn’t changed anything about it. He hadn’t even removed the decanter of expensive Japanese whiskey or the two crystal glasses that sat next to it. To be honest, he hadn’t spent time in the room at all, except occasionally dusting when he remembered. After the kids were asleep, it was Seto’s usual haunt back in the day. Seto was nothing if not a man of certain preferences.
The decanter was already wide open, and Seto was making significant progress in draining it. He looked quite at home for a man who had been threatening to stay in a hotel. His cheeks were just a little flushed and Joey could tell the liquor was affecting him because Seto laughed at Joey’s comment.
“Please. You don’t have some sort of web alert on my name, do you?” Kaiba said, raising his glass like there was something to celebrate.
“Nah. But Honda does,” Joey answered, and was rewarded with another one of Kaiba’s signature cackles. It was close enough to friendly that Joey decided to take the companion chair in the study. Joey hadn’t sat in that chair even once in the three years since Kaiba’s departure. Leaning into the plush velvet, he realized he had missed it.
“Of course. There is no one, naturally, just that endless speculation. A man continues to take care of his appearance and he can never do it for his professional image and personal health,” Kaiba pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling absently. “It must be for a lover.” The echo of blue light from the phone contrasted the warm yellow light from the study’s art-nouveau inspired banker’s lamps. It traced Kaiba’s high cheekbones in a flattering manner. It made Joey instantly more insecure about his own softer face.
Between the baggy sweatpants and charitable flannel bathrobe, he felt like no one would accuse him of taking up a new lover. If anything, he had spotted a few unflattering headlines in the last couple of years. The attention died off dramatically after Kaiba was all the way out of the picture. “Well, I’m sure you’re not worried about me finding anyone else. Don’t think anyone’s interested these days, I kinda let myself go.”
Kaiba’s eyes snapped away from his phone and back to Joey with a fierceness that Joey hadn’t expected. “First of all, I do not tolerate anyone talking about the father of my children that way,” Kaiba spat, the liquor making him slur the edges of some of the words. “And second,” Kaiba huffed a short breath, “you really have no idea what’s going on in my head.”
“Y’know what, Kaiba,” Joey challenged, “I really fucking don’t.”
Kaiba downed the rest of the drink. “I was thinking that you look just as attractive as the day I met you,” and Joey could spot that hunger in his eyes, seductive as ever. “Your hair is still always tousled, like you’ve been playing outside all the time.”
Kaiba returned his full attention to the decanter. “And I can’t look in your eyes without my heart absolutely aching,” Kaiba said as he refilled his glass. He sounded a bit angry to deliver the compliment.
The heat rose in Joey’s cheeks with the compliments. Joey released a sad little laugh before commenting. “Why do you gotta hold back on stuff like that ‘cept when you’re drinkin’ or whatever?”
Kaiba didn’t answer. He put his drink down and leaned in, so close that the heat of his breath tickled Joey’s cheek. Kaiba’s hand floated up to Joey’s face, the pad of his thumb running tenderly over the stubble on his jawline. Those haunted blue eyes saw straight into Joey’s soul.
“Even though you have done nothing but break my heart for the last four years, you are just as irresistible as ever,” Kaiba whispered, before pulling Joey in. There was no force behind the touch, as if he didn’t quite believe he was allowed to.
Maybe, Joey thought, if he hadn’t had such a dry spell, if he wasn’t so intoxicated by Kaiba’s praise and presence, then Kaiba wouldn’t have been allowed to. But the combination of loneliness, yearning, and unspoken regret was too heady. Always, Kaiba had to be too powerful.
And the kiss could have been their first kiss. It could have been the kiss that sealed their marriage at their wedding. It could have been the kiss after Joey first saw Kaiba hold Atticus. The kiss after they brought Alexis home from the hospital. It was tender and warm and peaceful. It was so right it felt like nothing had every happened to them, between them.
It was soft, and chaste. And too loving.
After Kaiba released, he must have noticed the tears that had leaked involuntarily from Joey’s eyes. The next kiss was not nearly so pure.
For one thing, Kaiba couldn’t seem to resist sticking his hands in Joey’s hair and pulling him in. If that first kiss was asking for permission, the second was to put Joey on notice that he was going to be devoured whole. It was hot and the lingering whisky all but burned Joey’s mouth. The campfire smell was almost too much—a warning that this was a bad idea. That they were both vulnerable and volatile and misguided.
But that hot mouth once again overpowered good sense. It always did, after all. And Joey only broke the make out in order to rise from his seat and straddle Kaiba’s hips in the opulent chair. It was clumsier than the last time they had done this, and Joey felt a bit insecure and out of shape, too much on display. But before the could undo his bold move, Kaiba grabbed him by the hips, long fingers artfully playing with the band of his sweatpants, dancing under his shirt and to his back. Kaiba smoothly scraped his nails down the soft flesh. Kaiba’s efforts were rewarded with a full body shudder, and he smirked back, as if to say “I’ve still got it.”
Joey moved in for another kiss, just to get that stupid, self-satisfied smirk off of his face. He was interrupted by his own moan at the sweet sensation of Kaiba grabbing and kneading at his ass. It was sexy as hell, and he felt so wanted. Like Kaiba was drinking in every second of his time with him. Like the last four years had faded away—or maybe never happened.
Joey knew enough signature moves to reduce his partner to a quivering mess. He decided to run his own nails over Kaiba’s scalp and was instantly pleased when Kaiba purred into his mouth. Putty in his hands.
As they proceeded, Kaiba continued to make desperate, needy noises. After his shifted his hips up and whimpered, Joey determined that something was up.
Well, something else.
After he pulled back and rose shakily to his own feet, he offered a hand to his partner.
Kaiba stumbled. He caught himself, but only by relying on Joey’s stability. He looked a little dizzy just to be standing.
“Goddammit. You’re really drunk Kaiba. And you probably didn’t even take breaks or shifts on the flight over, so you’re exhausted too,” Joey sighed.
Joey should have caught on faster, should have known better.
“This is so totally you, so fucking classic. You haven’t changed. This is why I fucking left, and never looked back. You’re exhausted and want to pull something and just… I really just get the dregs of you. Like you give your all to every single thing on earth, anything, so that you’re a mess by the time that you get to me. I’m the last priority every damn time, below even your desire to fuck off.”
“Jou…” Kaiba said his name on the exhale, and it evaporated in the room.
“You haven’t changed a bit in three years. I’m wasting my breath, you’re too much of a mess to even appreciate this. But I’ll tell you I feel like you bought me, and our relationship comes last. I’m your child-rearing assistant, the head nanny, and you don’t even have to try to be my partner.” Joey could feel his face going read with anger. “I get the worst of you, every time.”
Kaiba was silent. One of the most frustrating things about Seto was that no matter what he was going through, the processing power of his mind was rarely genuinely diminished.
“I am a good father.” Kaiba said, more to himself than to Joey.
“Yeah, but you’re a shit husband.”
Joey regretted it the second he said it. Hearing it out of his mouth felt unpleasant, like he was possessed by someone else. Someone a lot crueler, more dismissive.
Kaiba had no comment, no stinging rejoinder. He leaned onto Joey’s shoulder, long brown strands falling against the flannel bathrobe.
“C’mon, you can sleep in the guestroom.” Joey’s arm wound around Kaiba’s waist as he dragged him through the hallway.