Hoo ha! Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah; whatever you do or do not celebrate, I offer you well wishes and a big, big grin.

And this small story. I whipped it up in a couple of hours (something I'm going to regret after rereading), and I'll probably fix it up into better shape sometime after Christmas. This was purely made to pass the time.

.. Soo. Enjoy! Or don't enjoy. I'm leaning toward the latter, personally. XD

Warnings: a wee bit of swearing, and pretty blatent hints of shounen-ai. If you haven't the foggiest clue of what that means, I suggest you use the wonderful thing in the upper left hand corner of your screen that's most commonly known as the "back button." It's also sort of a PWP.

Disclaimer: if I owned Yuugioh, d'you think, even for just a moment, that I would be writing fan fiction? It's not fan fiction when you own it.

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It's All About the Coffee

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They had met in a coffee shop.

He hadn't gone there for any particular reason. It was the day before Christmas, that Saturday afternoon; a golden sun peeking through the low hanging clouds that were spilling crisp, white snow down upon the people and their city. It is not a particularly good idea to leave one's house this day; all the procrastinators decide to finally finish their duties and every single store is crammed with sweating, arguing people and frazzled, tired employees.

Yuugi had just sat down in one of the couple tables-- alone, of course -- to a hot cup of coffee, all snug in its styrofoam container and just begging to be guzzled with its wafting, tempting, alluring steam seeping out of the tiny hole provided for drinking purposes carrying its fantastic smell and hooking a finger on your jacket collar-- you poor, helpless thing.

Just as the chocolate-colored liquid was about to flow out of its prison and straight into Yuugi's mouth, a finger tapped his shoulder. Slamming the cup down after his eyes had rolled upwards in their sockets, Yuugi spun around on his chair to face and do battle with whatever monster sought to deny him his coffee.

He had snapped out, "What?" before he could stop himself.

Amused, glittering cherry eyes twinkled down at him.

"I was wondering if this seat was taken," the man asked with a deep, deep voice as he vaguely gestured to the empty chair across from him. Yuugi suddenly felt very small as a grin crept onto those full lips to join the already laughing eyes.

"Ah..." Yuugi was dismayed to find that his speech had acquired a high-pitched squeak. He paused to remedy that, and cleared his throat. "No, no it's not; feel free to sit."

And so he had. And they had stared at each other for awhile; one calculating and wondering and smiling at something only he knew about, the other too afraid to speak lest his voice box betrayed him again and decided to go through puberty once more. And finally, the stranger had glanced down and then back up, giving Yuugi a very solemn gaze, and voiced, "Do you want another coffee?"

And so it had begun. They sat there and talked until the sun began to set and the café was closing to allow its workers to go home and enjoy the special evening that only came once a year. And Yuugi and Atemu-- that was his name, one of the many things and tidbits Yuugi had discovered about the man during those short few hours -- had left the small, cozy building on the corner of the street with huge grins on their faces.

"Hey!" Yuugi giggled, absently tucking his cold hands into his pockets, "don't dis SantaHe may be fat, but he's sexier than you could ever hope to be." Yuugi was forced to cease talking to duck as a snowball went whizzing past his head.

"... You're not getting any presents this year, so help me."

Snickering, Atemu rolled another perfectly round snowball in his hands, rolling his tongue over his teeth as he smiled. Yuugi thought privately that that was blatent cheating.

A snowball war had ensued. It had started on the quiet street, home of the coffee shop, and ended somewhere in the middle of the park, both men equally red-faced and panting and tired and happy and warm.

They had walked together, during which Atemu had slipped his ungloved hand (both pairs were sopping wet and currently resided in their pockets) into Yuugi's, to Yuugi's shabby apartment complex, during which they had said their fond goodbyes. Neither let go of the other's hands until a quick blast of wind hurtled down their necks, inducing a shudder that effectively cut off their last physical connection.

Yuugi had gone home with his spirits high and giddy and a business card tucked in the only vacant pocket. Atemu had slipped it in while whispering in his ear, "call me." Yuugi particularly remembered the bout of hot breath that assaulted his neck, knowing it would taste so much better than his beloved coffee.

It was the last time Yuugi ever saw him. His pocket had contained a hole.

Absently, as he stirred his mocha in the same type of styrofoam cup, Yuugi wondered where Atemu was now.

It was Christmas Eve. A time for families, fires in the fireplaces, egg nog getting stuck in your throat, and small children whining pathetically at their parents to let them peek at presents early. Being alone on Christmas Eve was worse than being alone on Valentine's Day.

He was still wearing that damned jacket, that damned jacket that had lost him his happiness. Yuugi was convinced the Devil did indeed exist, and it existed in the form of... one jacket.

His friends... ah, his old friends had always attempted to get him hitched with the girls, maybe even one or two of the sweetest guys they could dig up in the small dreamer towns.. but he had never hit it off with any of them. No sparks. No dirty thoughts. Nothing.

Atemu. Atemu. His very name summoned a mental picture quick as a snap of the fingers and sent a shiver cantering through your body. Yuugi stared moodily down into his coffee, which was quickly turning cold. With Atemu, Yuugi had felt something. And... he had never wanted to let it go.

Yuugi felt like setting his jacket on fire again, but decided against it; he couldn't afford another one. Money was far too scarce for his liking. Standing, Yuugi tossed a few coins onto the table-- everything in his pocket, since it was Christmas Eve and the employees looked ready to drop -- and exited.

Yuugi had asked around, everyone he saw who looked like a business sort of (wo)man. He had come into the café numerous times afterward, always looking for Atemu in the black slacks and dressy shirt that.. shined. He stayed up late, sitting on his bed, waiting for a doorbell to ring in case he decided to drop by for a visit.

And then Yuugi discovered that Atemu had gone. Two days after they had met and held hands and chucked snowballs at eachother's faces in an argument on how sexy Santa Claus was. A skinny female, with her blonde hair tied back in the latest style and her legs crossed and a wad of bubble gum being gnawed on in her mouth took pity on him, and told him the whole story one day in the café. Caught the next plane to America couple days ago; FBI agent; was only here on business; you poor thing.

He had thanked the woman with a shaky nod and a blank stare, slowly exiting out into the snow. And he had run all the way to his threadbare apartment, and he had cried until his eyes were bloodshot and all he could taste was bitter salt, whereupon he passed out.

Yuugi quietly walked down the familiar path to his living quarters, the whole five miles. The same, old, grungy apartment. With its bedraggled walls and decrepit ceilings and decaying carpets that housed the city's population of mice. The same shit hole Yuugi had been surviving in for the past eight years.

A hot tear slid down his flushed cheek unbidden, and Yuugi angrily wiped it away. Atemu was gone-- Atemu probably wasn't even his real name. He was a fling that didn't have quite enough time to be flung, all thanks to his jacket.

Perhaps he should be thanking his jacket, Yuugi mused, absently kicking a small stone and watching it skitter down the sidewalk before taking an abrupt turn and crashing into a patch of snow-covered shrubs. Perhaps it was for the best that he had never seen Atemu again, even though it still made his heart give a sudden lurch every time he thought about it.

Sighing, Yuugi waded through the thick amount of snow that hindered his path to the entrance to his damn apartment, eyes down.

And so it was that he noticed the other pair of footprints, and Yuugi, against his better judgment, began to examine those footprints in hopes of entertaining himself by trying to guess which neighbor they belonged to. And so it was that Yuugi ran straight into his door, which was extraordinarily comfortable and warm on this particular evening, which Yuugi surmised it to be because it was Christmas Eve, and soon found himself on his rump in the cold snow.

And so it was that a pair of glittering cherry eyes smiled at him, and a smooth, tanned hand was offered to him. And, even though there was a bit of ventilating screaming on Yuugi's part at him, and even though both were sad and hurt and maybe a little bit angry, and even though Atemu had simply forgotten to tell Yuugi that he did, in fact, work for a very large corporation in America as an assassin, it did, in fact, end happily.

Yuugi woke Christmas morning to find he was warm and safe and comfortable in an expensive hotel room (complete with a Christmas tree), in the expensive hotel room's equally expensive bed, stark naked, and lying next to a very pretty body, who was looking at him with those same smiling eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Yuugi."

End.