A/N: Are you confused? 'Cause I am. XD
http/ www. deviantart. com/ view/ 31435536/ Inspired by this fic… an older Mokuba! Just take out the spaces. XP
Whatever Happens Here, Stays Here
Chapter 7: Why Don't You Just Die?
That's not my name, Kaiba!
… Not my name…
The phrase echoed in Seto's mind, and though confused, his eyes narrowed in anger. He pounded on the door several times, "What the hell are you saying, Ya--" The CEO hesitated, but decided there was no other way but to use the only name he knew. "Yami?"
Behind the thick oak door, the vague sound of a shower spray turning on was registered.
"Damn it!" Seto cursed, pulling out his cell phone in a fit of childlike indignation. With his fist still clenched against the flat surface of the door, he held the ringing phone to his ear.
"Kisara. I want a key to room three-eight…"
"…A key?" She interrupted senselessly, "You lost your key to your room, and you are calling me… why?"
Slowly, sense began to settle on Seto, and he stepped quickly away from Atemu's door, "… Never mind, Kisara." Seto winced at how peculiar it would have been if he were to ask for a key to another room, one occupied to that extent too.
He finally glanced at the digital numbers on his phone, and with a second thought, added, "I'm sorry to have bothered you." He had woken his secretary up in the middle of the night.
"… Is something…?"
"… Oh, hnn…" came an uncharacteristic disbelieving noise over the line. There was a rustle of static and curse mutterings, as it sounded like Kisara sat up from her bed. "What happened?"
"Nothing. Go back to sleep." He hung up on Kisara's demand of what was going on.
The brunette stood before the door for another calculating moment before turning away. This was nothing a little computer work couldn't solve.
"Yami… Yami…" Seto muttered to himself, slowly working his way through the complexity of the hotel and casino's electronic system. The progress was almost at a snail's pace, but he was impressed. The security around all the private information was nearly solid (though he was in no mood to have to break it all down).
At the fourth electronic firewall, Seto was at his patience's limit. He reached for his phone and dialed for the main office.
"Connect me to the electronics securities technician now,"he snarled into the phone.
Three seconds later, an extremely peeved voice came through the line, "Who is this? What do you want? Do you know what time it is?"
Seto snarled right back, "Is there is reason why I can't get through to fifty percent of the information?"
"… Fifty percent, you say?" There was typing in the background. "Hah, I should have known you were a Kaiba."
Seto's voice turned deadly, "Excuse me…?" The phrase left no option except explanation.
The technician giggled, and Seto was taken aback. He was so frustrated he did not even realize the other was a female.
"What is your name?" he asked finally, stopping the other's amusement.
"Hopkins. Rebecca Hopkins."
Suddenly it all made sense. Rebecca Hopkins was an internationally known tech genius. In fact, Seto narrowed his eyes, she was a child prodigy… and if he knew his information correctly, right now, she was around… fourteen.
"You'd think the CEO would pay attention to all those reports that are sent to Japan daily and all," Rebecca added, "But… fifty percent! Hell, I better get crackin' on some new codes."
"You better have a fucking brilliant reason why the fucking CEO of this entire business can't even get to the information he needs," Seto warned, his hand clenching his phone in a death grip.
"Calm down," Rebecca replied before she paused to yawn, "What the hell do you need that requires breaking down all my security?"
"That's none of your business," Seto replied bitterly.
"Oh-ho," Rebecca replied just as coldly, "I think it would be. I'm in for any illegal business you're planning. Hell, I work for you, remember? Confidentiality and shit."
"You have quite a mouth for a fourteen year old."
"Yeah, well, freedom of fucking speech and all," Rebecca's sarcasm was so evident Seto could just imagine the smirk on her face.
"… What happened to what I had written?" Seto finally asked.
"I re-wrote it all," Rebecca answered matter-of-factly, "We told you, but you never responded. It was during the period that you were flooded with all the new responsibilities of being a Vegas hotel and casino owner, 'member? Well, obviously not."
"… I see."
"What can I do for you, Kaiba?" Rebecca asked chirpily, "Hey, look what I can do!"
Seto's own laptop began to exit the sections he had managed to open before the screen was divided into six colored video shots.
"Wave, Mr. CEO. You're on candid camera."
Seto groaned, dropping his hand into his head. The six tiny figures on his laptop did the same.
"Call me Rebecca."
He felt a sudden surge of older-brother-defeat.
"Right… Rebecca, I need you to give my computer access to everything in our system."
"Do you have to ask?"
"No, but I want to know," came her cheeky reply.
"… I sort of want to find out something about someone," Seto admitted carefully.
"Too vague," Rebecca replied with boredom lacing her simple words. Yet, she began to break down the walls that were keeping Seto's personal laptop from getting to the information.
Normally they weren't there (if the CEO had ever needed anything, he could get it directly from Kaiba Corporation, Japan) but she had heard the man was in Las Vegas and decided to see just how brilliant Seto Kaiba really was.
He wasn't bad at all, really. Rebecca had to give him credit for getting past a lot of her codes within the time frame (that is, before his patience wore thin).
Seto decided she was just as bad as Mokuba. Since when did people start to… not fear him?
"It's my neighbor. He's a Platinum member, but his name doesn't match the records, and I was worried this was an issue dealing with forgery or a stolen identity."
"Neighbor, huh?" Rebecca said absently, her fingers flying along her keyboard. She finished her task of connecting Seto's laptop to the system, but began to investigate for her own curiosity.
"Yes… he's living in three-eight--"
"I know, I know. He's the only person on your floor," Rebecca interrupted, opening screens with great alacrity, "He's taking a shower right now. OH. Wow, he's taking a shower right now," she repeated, her voice taking on a dreamy quality.
"WHAT!" Seto felt a big twinge of anger. Ever heard of privacy, little girl?
"… You want to take a peek too, Kaiba?"
"NO. Why would I?"
"… You want me to list the reasons alphabetically? 'Cause… WOW"
Seto was sure he was going to kill something.
"Shoot, if I had known he was living here all along… sheesh… thanks for the head's up, Kaiba. No pun intended." The girl began to laugh at her own private joke.
"Will you stop that?"
"What are you getting all jealous about, Kaiba?" Rebecca asked mischievously, "Your computer can see all this too now, you know."
"It can?" Seto asked, surprised she had worked so fast, "I mean… fuck, Rebecca! That's it… I'm overriding these video cameras."
"I can change your code in two seconds, Kaiba," Rebecca giggled, "Geez, don't get so uptight about it… I get it, I get it. I'm going back to bed after all. Can't stay up all night and watch this guy shower and all."
"I know you can. I'm just telling you in advance not to mess with what I write, okay?"
"Yes, sir," the girl answered with a yawn, "Call me if you need anything, Kaiba."
"Thank you, Rebecca," Seto finally said as he easily opened the search engine for Pharaoh's Palace's members, "You've been a great help. I…"
"Probably couldn't have done it without me?"
Seto didn't want to admit it, but he silently nodded, never thinking Rebecca couldn't see him.
The fourteen-year-old tech prodigy giggled, "Kaiba, I'm sure if you weren't so confused, you could have broken all my codes at some point."
Since when did the younger generation become so perceptive? It was almost disturbing.
"At some point," Rebecca added with some thought, "Few days… maybe a few weeks… oh… now that I think about it…"
"… Good night, Hopkins," Seto stated with finality, hanging up with a sigh.
Katsuya looked up when he heard the angry slam of the exit door. Ryou jumped in his seat and turned with a look of worry in his eyes.
The dealer didn't answer. Ryou pushed himself off the stool and rushed toward his older brother, but the other stopped him with one hand to his shoulder.
"'Kura, what happened? What's wrong?" A frown marred Ryou's features as he clasped his own hand over Bakura's that held him at bay.
"It… It's nothing, Ryou," Bakura finally answered, his other hand lifting to rub the asperity from his face, hiding his features before he ran the same hand through his hair.
After studying the dealer's appearance anxiously, Ryou exclaimed, "You're lying!"
The seventeen year old threw off his brother's hand and propelled himself forward, throwing his arms around the other's neck.
The force threw Bakura backwards into a set of chairs. His head barely missed the edge of the table as he went down with his brother on top of him. The chairs scattered around them.
They fell heavily against the floor, and Bakura stifled a curse into a groan as his back hit the floor. By sheer instinct did Bakura manage to not do his head any damage. Seconds later, Bakura worked to sit up with a grimace.
"Ryou," Bakura gasped, trying to desperately to unhook his brother from his upper body. "Ryou. Please."
"No," came the muffled answer from his collar, and Bakura shifted uncomfortably, trying to untangle their legs.
"Ryou…" Bakura said, his voice holding a note of warning, "You're seventeen and you still act like--"
"--You hate me, don't you, Aniki?"
Bakura stiffened, and his little brother's arms tightened around him. "… What are you…?" The idea was preposterous.
"You left me to come over here, didn't you? Didn't you? Obviously staying in Japan with me was too much to bear, huh? Isn't that right? Why don't you love me anymore, why don't you care, why did you--" Ryou's voice broke into hysterical sobs. His fingers threaded deeper into Bakura's lengthy hair and stayed fisted like he could not bring himself to let go.
The dealer froze, staring disbelieving over Ryou's quivering shoulder. Was this seriously the reason his little brother had tracked him down.
Because he was a negligent guardian?
What was the world coming to?
Bakura began to laugh. One hand looped around his brother's waist and the other went to cover his mouth; he was laughing that hard.
Ryou loosened his hold and pulled back enough to see the insane glint in his older brother's tearing eyes. Shock gripped him, and Ryou fought to calm down enough to ask, "… 'Kura…? What's so funny?"
In response, Bakura embraced Ryou closer and buried his face into his younger brother's shoulder, his laughing slowing down until he was chuckling weakly.
Heaving, Bakura's frame shook in Ryou's arms. Quietly, Bakura's mumbling began, "This is fucking hilarious. My boyfriend is sleeping with his twin, and my little brother thinks I hate him. My life is a fucking comedy. Oh my fucking god, I wouldn't trade my life for anything right now…"
There was a subtle sniff as Bakura lifted his head, hand rubbing his eyes. He looked at the distraught look on Ryou's face and gave a small smile. Ryou stayed fearfully silent.
"Ryou… I…" Bakura wanted to apologize, but his body began to shake again, and Bakura started snickering. "Holy fucking SHIT, why can't I stop laughing?"
Suddenly a huge wave of wet ice was poured over his head, drenching him from head to waist and began to spread across the floor to dampen his slacks. Ryou cried out when he was half hit with the onslaught of icy wetness.
"Didn't quite know when I ought to have stepped in," came Katsuya's jovial voice, "Hm… the bar will be out of ice for a while though."
Bakura wiped his soaked bangs from his face and glared hard at the golden-blond bartender, "What the fuck was that for, shithead?"
Ryou whined as he got to his feet, as several ice cubes managed to find their way into his clothes. He wrung out his hair and shivered.
"I felt I needed to mop the floors, that's all," Katsuya grinned, moving to the back room to get something to clean up the hazardous mess in the middle of the lounge.
"Aw, fuck. Now I'm going to be late for work," Bakura scowled, standing up dripping wet and sufficiently chilled.
"… Are we going back to change?" Ryou asked, arms wrapped around himself to try and lessen the chill from his wet clothes.
"Fuck yes. Stupid Jou," muttered the dealer, "Going to get the car fucking wet too."
Katsuya whistled innocently, returning with a bucket, mop, and a couple of towels.
"Come on, Ryou," Bakura ordered, snatching a towel and rubbing Ryou's head fussily, "If you catch a cold, I don't know what I'd do…"
"… Lucky for us, it's warm outside, but cold, wet clothes is never quite a…"
"What is it?" Bakura frowned, wrapping the towel around Ryou's head.
"I love you. I do."
There was a silence, and Katsuya mentally congratulated himself for a job well done.
"… We're leaving." The dealer grabbed the teenager's hand and pulled the other toward the exit door, the other hand rubbing a towel furiously through his own snowy white hair.
Katsuya looked amusedly as Ryou opened the door for his brother, who glowered in response. It looked like things were regaining normalcy again.
"Love you too, Ryou." Katsuya finally heard as the door shut behind the two brothers.
Along with the name was a picture reference (leading a gallery if wanted), along with anything Seto could imagine wanting to know. He was impressed at the comprehensive research done on those even remotely related or connected with his casino and hotel.
So that's what Yami had meant. Or Atemu. Well, Mutou, to be exact, seeing as they were not on close terms… or even terms at all. Or what were they?
Seto couldn't understand what in the world had brought on the kiss except for utter intoxication, but there was a difference between connecting mouth to mouth then, say, connecting fist to face or something that he would have expected (though he had to admit he hadn't really expected anything but to let the other wake up with a insane hangover and then challenge – and beat – the other at some game of his advantageous choice).
He fiddled with the mouse, hovering the pointer over the link next to the room number. A layout of the room was shown, along with a detailed map of even the occupant's belongings. The date of how long Atemu had been staying was listed and more. Beneath it all, it was the video link that tempted Seto the most.
Well, it's not like opening it would make a huge difference in his life anyway, Seto had finally decided as he opened the link and waited for the computer to connect.
His screen was split into now familiar panels of different angles. What looked like the bathroom was now empty, and Seto let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He straightened with disgust. These atypical feelings, or maybe just the situations themselves, were something he could definitely do without.
The figure in the room had collapsed on the bed with no thought to the consequences of sleeping with wet hair in what was assumed to be an air-conditioned suite. Having donned on sleepwear, it looked as if he was sleeping already.
Suddenly very curious about just how much his system was based on electronics, Seto began to dig deeper into the coding. With the security obsolete to him, he could get down to the bare necessities of 0's and 1's. Reading over the green numbers, he began to experiment with his own room.
The lights could be controlled by coding, as could the television, telephone, etc… but most importantly…
He could unlock his own door by just altering 0's and 1's.
… Oh, was he going to have a field day fixing this little problem.
Atemu would have immediately fallen asleep had he not heard a disconcerting sound that came from the door. It sounded like the bolt shifting back from its locked position.
Pulling himself upright, he opened the door and looked up and down the hallway. It was eerily quiet, though that was very normal. He jiggled the outside handle and found it movable, indicating that the lock was somehow not working.
… Since when did vodka induce hallucinations?
He definitely needed to call the front desk about this.
The numbers danced for a second before Seto's eyes, and he blinked. Was…?
The next room's occupant had abandoned his last position on the bed and was now fiddling with the door.
Apparently Seto had mis-read the coding and ended up unlocking not only his door, but the entire 38th floor's doors. He wondered if Yami had noticed the lights and television going off their rockers as well.
Before Atemu had even reached his phone, it began to ring. In the back of his mind, he could not help but be grateful that something was going to keep him awake so that the alcohol would wear off enough so that the next morning would not be absolute hell.
Must be calling to tell me something's wrong with their security or something.
"Hello?" he answered, wondering if he still sounded like a half-wit drunk. The shower had certainly cleared at least the rational part of his mind. Or so he hoped.
"Mutou, is it?"
"I was just about to call about what I should do about my door," Atemu laughed, "What a coincidence." Or not… wow, am I still drunk? Atemu wondered vaguely.
"… Don't worry about that. I called to make sure you didn't inform the front desk that I've been messing around with the main system."
That almost sounds shady, Atemu blinked, but really didn't have the will (or ability at the moment) to piece anything together, "… Who are you?" was the most intellectual and practical question he could manage.
"Oh, you know me, Yami. Or should I call you Mutou Atemu?"
"Well, that's done."
The cursor saved the document and closed the open windows of the computer screen. Now all that was left to do was make a little call.
Glancing around the cabin, he punched the numbers into his phone. Even though cell phone usage was prohibited, he felt this was rather important.
"I don't have time to explain, but pick me up at the airport in about an hour," was his hurried message before he quickly shut his phone.
Satisfied with his plans, he decided to follow the suit of other passengers in napping.
It wasn't until the flight attendant politely tapped him on the shoulder to indicate that the plane had landed that he woke up. After securing his belongings and leaving the plane, he was accosted by the summer weather, very different from the cold airplane.
"Ugh. It's hot."
The woman working behind the counter at the airport rolled her eyes at the young foreigner's complaint.
As other plane passengers pushed past the young man, he continued to stand in the middle of the exit, and commented finally, "And really humid."
Unable to keep quiet any longer, the clerk stood up and cleared her throat, "Sir, could you please move to one side so others can pass?"
"Sure thing," the tall male replied smoothly, beginning to pull off his gray blazer as he stepped toward the counter, "By the way, if I were to be picked up, where would that be?"
The question was bewildering in many aspects. Instantly sensing the other's confusion, the young man gave her a boyish grin as he loosened the tie around his neck, "I've never… how would I say this…?"
"Have you ever ridden in a plane before, sir?" the clerk suggested, thinking she had caught on to his explanation.
There was a pause, in which case, the man slowly pulled off his shades that he had been wearing on the aircraft when he had dozed off. Considering the question, he hooked the glasses into his shirt pocket and finally answered, "Publicly, no."
As he watched amusedly as the clerk's eyebrows nearly shot to her hairline, a familiar figure decked in similar business attire slipped through the glass doors further down the hall and hurried over.
"Mokuba Kaiba," came the exasperated address, "It's one thing to drive your brother crazy, but myself as well? You gave me sixty minutes to drop everything and rush over here!"
"Oops," blue eyes sparkled playfully as the young man turned away from the counter, "But, Kisa-san…"
"Don't tell me this was another one of your spontaneous acts, Mokuba," the secretary warned.
"I don't have any luggage, if that entails spontaneity," the twenty-year-old smiled innocently. He could just imagine what was running through the other's mind.
As if looking after one wasn't bad enough…
"You didn't bring anything?" Kisara gestured for Mokuba to follow her out of the airport while she scolded him, "What did you expect to do here?"
Mokuba hoisted the bag that held his laptop into the secretary's line of view, and tried to look abashed. Quite failing at the attempt, Mokuba gave up and replied mischievously, "Bother Nii-san, of course. What else?"
"Somehow, this doesn't surprise me anymore," Kisara sighed.
'Or should I call you Mutou Atemu?'
How could he not know who the caller was? The mere realization knocked panic into Atemu, sharpening his previous blurry mind. However, as sobering as the situation was, there was no stopping instinct.
The twenty-two-year old slammed the phone back onto its holder.
He did not know what else to do. Was it fear that he was feeling right now? Atemu closed his eyes and tried to sort out his emotions.
What was it that set him off?
It was the tone of the other's voice. There was a biting edge to the usual no-nonsense words. It was the sardonic, who-do-you-think-you-are-fooling quality. Atemu grimaced.
But… it wasn't illegal to have a nickname, right? Perhaps…
In the background of his thoughts, there was a soft click from the door. Atemu paid little attention, thinking the door had locked itself, what with his CEO neighbor fiddling with the system.
Perhaps it was…
"No one knows who you are."
The sudden presence of another shocked Atemu nearly to death, and in his surprise, he had backed himself against the headboard of his bed.
"Fuck!" was the harsh, but breathless expression that escaped Atemu, whose hand was pressed against his rapidly beating heart. "What do you think you're doing!"
Seto Kaiba had the nerve to look pleasantly nonchalant. Leaning against the wall across from where Yami was seated, the twenty-five-year old businessman answered easily, "I'm about to have an eye-opening conversation with you, of course."
"Wha--," Atemu trailed off the question into a slow exhale. Collecting himself, he narrowed his eyes and glared at the intruder, "Get out."
The CEO did not move a muscle. Atemu hands tensed and clenched the spread of blankets beneath him. Through gritted teeth, he repeated slowly, "Get. Out. Of. My. Room."
"I won't," Seto simply said.
"That's mature," was the younger man's sardonic reply, "Leave, or I'm calling security." Atemu, in order to emphasize his threat, placed his hand around the telephone receiver.
"I'm so scared."
"You…" There were no words to even voice his frustration. Atemu stabbed the buttons on the phone with more force than necessary. In his anger, he did not realize that the other had crossed the room in several steps and --
Seto dropped the cord on top of the dresser with a satisfied glint in his darkened blue eyes. Atemu looked up with surprise and was almost mad enough to chuck the receiver at the other's head.
"I can't believe you did that," he finally commented, placing the telephone back on its holder.
Seto shrugged carelessly, "I'll leave when I'm finished with you."
There was something suspicious about the smirk that crossed the other's face just as Seto spoke his words.
"Okay, you arrogant prick. I'll see you later then."
With a casual gesture of deportation, Atemu shrugged on a shirt, side-stepped the taller man, and walked smoothly out his hotel room.
Seto stared as the door swung shut behind the other's swift figure. What the hell had just happened? Habitually running his hand through his chestnut locks, he grimly decided that this had gone on long enough. He was going to anchor that damn brat down to the next stationary object once he got his hands on him.
Once in the hallway, Atemu glanced for a quick escape and his eyes fell on the most obvious choice, the elevator. However, in no mood to wait, he found the perfect route.
Just several feet behind him, the door opened. Locking gazes with the other, Atemu knew the other had no patience left to spare. Almost as if acting on instinct, the smaller male broke into a run for the stairwell.
Seto was (again, and for the thousandth time) surprised at the other's unpredictable actions. With longer strides, he reached the staircase just as it slammed shut behind Atemu. Wrenching it open, he grabbed the other by the shoulder and shoved him easily against the adjacent wall.
Atemu groaned as he hit the wall, hissing jumbled curses.
"Must you make me chase you!" the CEO snapped, irritated.
"Who said I wanted you to!" Atemu bit back, scowling as he tried to push the other away, to no avail. He was trapped against the wall effectively by the other's larger body.
"Listen, Yami," the brunette spoke in a low, dangerous tone, pressing closer when the other fought to get away, "You should remember who you're trying to fuck with."
Smirking, the younger one leaned up and replied humorlessly, "I wouldn't dream of fucking with anyone, Kaiba, especially you. You're probably quite violent in bed."
Seto's eyes narrowed angrily. Atemu mentally took note that the subject must be an uncomfortable one, more for the other man than himself. He switched his angle of attack.
"I'm sorry, did you think anything of my kissing you?" Atemu brought up boldly, adopting an apologetic look, thought not necessarily sincere, "I really didn't mean to. I had too much alco--"
The little space between the two closed when Seto unceremoniously stopped the other's words by sealing their lips together. Atemu's eyes widened as the warm sensation enveloped his mouth. Sparks ran down his spine and he argued desperately against his irrational side that was telling him to continue what felt so good. His crimson eyes slid close as he returned the kiss.
Unlike the quick brush he had received before, Seto opted to direct and firm contact. In the haze of desire, he nudged the other's mouth open, only to be met with Atemu's own inquiring tongue. Yet, as quickly as he had initiated it, Seto pulled away, rather bewildered at his own actions.
Atemu opened his eyes to the other's blue stare. He found no words for the situation.
"I--" Seto found himself mentally reeling in denial. He was an incredibly intelligent person, yet no reason was coming to him.
Shocked out of his mind, Atemu stared speechlessly at the other. Sure, the CEO was arrogant as hell, had a temper like Hades, and gorgeous like-- wait, what!
'Oh, what the hell.' In a rare show of impulsiveness, Atemu reached up and, threading his fingers through the other's chestnut strands, pulled the taller man down for another kiss.
However, their lips did not meet as Seto stopped, millimeters from completing what both had in mind.
"Are you still drunk?" was Seto's whispered question.
He received a muted, leisurely kiss. With half-lidded eyes, Atemu replied slowly, "I don't think so. Are you?" This was accented with a slightly tilted head.
This rendered a slight smile from the taller man. Bending down slightly until he could almost nibble on the curve of the other's ear, Seto answered easily, "No. Unlike someone," his breath ghosted across Atemu's earlobe, causing him to shudder, "I can hold my alcohol."
Atemu nearly yelped as the other unexpectedly pressed his lips against the column of his throat.
"Wha-," the rate of his pulse had to have doubled, "What are you doing?" he managed, though surrendered to a soft moan as Seto sucked where his heartbeat leapt.
Yet, when Seto moved to kiss him again, Atemu complied wholeheartedly. As if having proved a point, Seto replied, "And what are you doing?"
The younger man turned red from embarrassment. Any retaliation was cut off, however, when they both heard the ding that came from the arrival of the elevator at their floor.
"Was that--?" Atemu pointed out, eyes widening slightly. His grip on the other's arm tightened.
"I think so," Seto replied, turning his head toward the sound. He was instantly on guard, even though the two were still pressed together.
"I thought we were--"
"The only ones on this floor," Seto finished quickly, narrowing his eyes as he heard the elevator door close and footsteps rescinding down the hall, away from the pair.
"We certainly have our brains wired alike," Atemu commented, "What's the plan of action?"
Somewhere down the hall, a door swung shut loudly within the silence of the 38th floor.
"I need to check something," the CEO answered, pulling away, his mind focused on getting to his laptop in his suite.
The brunette didn't get very far before a hand darted out and grabbed his wrist. Surprised, he turned back.
"Can I come too?" Atemu asked with a charming smile.
Seto felt his will waver at the words themselves, but with the smile, it seemed to completely disintegrate. With a wry grin, he answered, "If you're that bored."
"Well, you're just that interesting," Atemu joked in return, falling into step with the other.
As Mokuba stepped out of the elevator, he had the suspicion that something was not quite right. His older brother did not pick up his cell phone, which was strike one. Seto always picked up his cell phone, no matter how much Mokuba bothered him.
Sighing, Mokuba hung up his phone. A call to his brother's room also went unanswered. It didn't seem that Seto was in his own room either. Of course, right now would be the ideal time to be sleeping, but since when did Seto sleep through phone calls?
Ignoring his own personal suite, Mokuba was making use of the spare key that Kisara had given him to enter next door, Seto's room.
Upon entrance, Mokuba's mind screamed panic when he saw his brother's cell phone next to his hibernating laptop. Mokuba whirled around, checking the room for any other sign of 'disarray.' The room was eerily untouched, making him feel more anxious because the light had been left on as well.
Dropping into his brother's seat, Mokuba eyes widened when the computer screen cleared. A box showed a towel-strewn bathroom. Another box showed a slightly rumpled bed. Summing up all the rectangles, Mokuba concluded that this was the security camera's differing perspective of another suite.
The twenty-year-old slowly reached for his brother's phone as he exited the video windows. He found himself at a profile of what seemed to be a member of the hotel and casino. His eyes lingered on the room number of the said suite. Flipping open his brother's phone, he found that the last call had been placed to the same location. However, when Mokuba tried the same number, he got an automatic reply that the number could not be reached.
The door unlocked and Mokuba looked up abruptly.
"--As long as the new guy isn't an ass like you, I'll be happy," came a stranger's voice as the door opened slightly.
"Huh. As long as the new guy has an ass like yours, I'll be happy too."
The door swung open and Mokuba gaped from behind the laptop as two figures emerged in the doorway.
"Ugh. Kaiba. That's disgusting--"
Mokuba didn't know whether to scream or faint, or maybe a little of both. He did know, however, that if his eyes widened anymore, they might just fall out. The only noise that escaped him was a small groan.
"--And way too much infor…ma…" the shorter man next to his brother trailed off as he locked eyes with Mokuba.
Seto, wondering why Atemu froze, turned and reeled back. "Mokuba!"
"Nii-san!" Mokuba finally found his voice, but it had reverted back to the much-bewildered-twelve-year-old-little-brother voice.
"I don't think--" Atemu took a step back right into Seto, "--I should be here."
"It's my room," Seto half-argued as he pushed the other forward, though his eyes were still searching his brother's for some answers.
"It is your room," Mokuba agreed, getting up from the chair slowly, breaking his gaze with Seto and studying Atemu, "But I'm forgetting my manners." He approached Atemu, and though younger than the other, had a good few inches over the twenty-two year old. "I'm Mokuba Kaiba, VP of Kaiba Corp."
"Nice to meet you," Atemu smiled back and chuckled, "I'm Yami, and I'm feeling rather short next to you two."
"That's because you are," Seto offered from behind him.
"Prick. I like your brother a lot more than you already."
The pieces began to fall into place. The only problem was that the picture was looking a bit too strange to be true.
Turning to his brother, Mokuba gestured to Atemu and asked, "Is he…?"
"He is," Seto answered readily.
Seto gave an apathetic monosyllabic affirmative. Mokuba couldn't help but give Atemu another thorough look. Atemu, in turn, ran his crimson eyes over the other's smooth features. Unlike the older sibling, Mokuba kept a boyish image with loose ebony strands that were free to get into his blue eyes.
"Okay, fine," Mokuba seemed to be satisfied with who knows what, but Seto instantly knew something was up with his brother's trademark smirk appeared, "But why is he in your room?"
A/N: I would have continued… but all inspiration sort of fizzled on. Should I go on? Or is this time to abandon this fic?