Disclaimer: Right. Because YuGiOh has been mine so many times before.

Author's Note: Okiee-dokie, here are some more mini-fics! And one sentence. X3

I don't think any of them really need any sort of explanation, except, perhaps, Bet, which is a mini-fanfic for one of Lechan's fics, CATACOMBS OF SIN, that can be found, read, and thoroughly enjoyed on adultfanfiction. :D Oh, and also, "Waiting" and "Airplane" are based off of the first few episodes of Dawn of the Duel.

On that note, I hope you like these!

Warnings: Puzzleshipping! Yaoi! HARD LIME/LIGHT LEMON AND INCEST! (More "M" than "NC-17" though, I should think. Still, if that offends you, please skip "Bet.")










In games: Together in the dueling ring, even if no one else notices. They can see each other, and that's enough— they can see, and feel, and touch; share tips and plans and strategies; goad the other on with smirks and teases and praise.

In existence: Never alone. The best of friends, and life is like a constant sleepover. Giggling until one in the morning, playing checkers and poker until Grandpa comes in and sends them to bed. Laughing when the lights go out, whispering secrets and dares in the darkness, as furtive as little spies.

In love: Soul mates destined through time to meet again, to be one. And one they are, though now in two bodies. Murmured confessions of adoration echo through the shadows, accompanied by kisses that skim and flutter like the wings of a butterfly. Mirrored bodies, bared bodies, joined bodies slicked with desire and need, hidden from view by game displays in the Kame Shop.

Aibou—! Yami hisses, the beloved title reverberating through their mind. And there is no sweeter word— nor word more appropriate— Yugi thinks, with which to call him.

For that is what they are.


The pharaoh never spoke.

It wasn't that he couldn't, or that he didn't understand. It was simply that he chose not to. And while the small gang had taken it as a personal affront when he first received his new body, they knew better now…

He wasn't being haughty, or arrogant, or rude. He just had no desire to speak.

Rather—he had no desire to communicate with anyone but Yugi. And—as their current smiles now attested to, their feet touching and kicking as they poked delightedly at one another from across the plastic table— he didn't need words to do that.




"Why're you always so angry?"

"Should I not be? They hurt you. Me. Us."

"They're bad people, yes. I'm not disagreeing. I'm asking why you're so angry."

"Because that is what happens when you have been hurt. You get angry."

"I don't… at least, I never did before."

"Then perhaps that is why I am. I am your release."

"But I don't want to be angry. Nor do I want you to be."

"I do."

"Does… does that make us separate people, then? If we both want different things…"

"Heh, I take it you have not done much thinking on that?"

"It's all a little hard to grasp… and accept…"

"I would suppose."

"…what does it gain you?"

"What does what gain me?"

"Your anger. What do you get from being so angry?"


"Dark power."

"Dark is what I am."

"I don't believe that."

"You do not need to believe me for it to be so."

"If you're so dark, why do you smile so gently at me when we're alone?"

"Because I am not angry with you."

"Wouldn't you be angry then, too? Like, angry since you're not angry? Since you enjoy being angry, that is."

"…that is very confusing."

"Sorry. The point is, you don't ever act angry with me."

"Perhaps I like smiling for you more."

"More than being angry?"


"I'll tell you a secret— I prefer to see you smiling. It makes me happy."


"Happy is the opposite of angry."

"Is it? I was not aware… that is, I had forgotten the word…"

"Has it been a long time, then?"

"Since what?"

"Since you've been happy?"

"It appears so. I just remember anger… anger and darkness. Then you."

"And I am?"

"Light. And… 'happy.'"

"Which do you prefer?"




"So then why do you act so angry?"

"Because I am not used to being happy."

"Is that it? Well, then— I guess I'll have to remind you what it's like…?"

"Yes. I believe you shall."




They fit together—perfectly, flawlessly, effortlessly—because they are pieces from the same puzzle, and they are not complete without the other.




Aibou, Pretty One, Little Light, Mou Hitori no Ore… Yami speaks in nicknames, in pet names, in endearments. It confuses Yugi for years; he teases his other half, asking if he has forgotten his birth name.

With a soft laugh, Yami smiles and purrs into his ear: Of course not… but how can I force a single name on someone as versatile as you? As loyal, beautiful, kind-hearted, and perfect? It would be an insult.

Yugi blushes bright fuchsia, and as they fall back on the bed he hears each name for what it really is—

Aibou, Pretty One, Little Light, Mou Hitori no Ore… I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.


Mind Link


They'd noticed—with some concern, it should be said— how withdrawn Yugi had become as the years went on. The way he'd finger the Puzzle; the way he'd stare off into space; the way he'd color up for no apparent reason, murmuring half-hearted rebukes and airy giggles into space.

"What's going on in there?" Jonouchi had asked once, tapping Yugi's forehead with his desert spoon when the smaller boy had blanched—then flushed magenta—then dropped his hamburger onto his plastic tray with a yelp. "Are you all right?"

"Uh—" Yugi's face darkened to scarlet; he had to clear his throat twice before even attempting to speak. "S—sorry, Jonouchi-kun," he whispered, forcing an embarrassed sort of smile. "I just… Yami, he's been talking to me through our mind link and… and he—!"

He cut himself off with a gasp, swallowing hard.

Jonouchi stared at him blankly, as did Anzu and Honda.

Without another word of warning, Yugi got to his feet. Actually, "leapt to his feet" would be more appropriate … jumped as if he'd been set on fire. Which might not have been too far from the truth, judging by the expression on his face. "Er—gottagotothebathroomsorry!" he squeaked, and raced away without a backwards glance.

In the distance, they heard a door slam shut, accompanied by a muted cry of: "YA—aaaa! Oh my God!"

Honda turned white; Anzu reddened considerably. Jonouchi merely looked confused.

Yugi remained in the bathroom for a long time.




Singing was one of the many things at which Atemu was exceedingly talented, but very few people knew it. Other things that landed in this category included cooking, sewing, organizing, flower arranging, and (rather ironically) fixing electronics. But Yugi—who knew the pharaoh even better than he knew himself—was used to the soft humming that tended to stun others. To be perfectly honest, Yugi very much liked it—especially when Atemu would sing for him.

Though that wasn't to say that some of the songs his dark-half enjoyed didn't… surprise him.

"Yami?" Craning his neck against the armrest of the couch, Yugi lowered his book and stared up into Yami's amused eyes. "What're you si— eep!"


The kind you clean up with a mop and bucket," the pharaoh crooned into Yugi's ear, pawing closer as the heated hiss nearly shocked the smaller boy off of the couch.

"In the lost catacombs of Egypt

Only God knows where we stuck it


Let me be specific

I wanna be down in your South Seas—"

"—ahh!—" Yugi tossed his head, writhing as Yami's hands sunk… south. God, how could he do that with his fingers—?

"—But I got this notion that the motion of your ocean

Meets small craft advisories."

"A—Atemu—!" he squeaked, turning a lovely shade of ruby as the taller boy's wandering limbs came to a stop; as his lean and luscious body gracefully straddled his own.

Atemu grinned, singing softly against Yugi's throat as his fingers began unsnapping the buttons of his little one's shirt.

"So if I capsize on your thighs

High Tide


You sunk my battleship

Please turn me on

I'm Mr. Coffee with an automatic drip

So show me yours

I'll show you mine

Tool Time

You'll love it just like Lyle

And then we'll do it doggy style

So we can both watch X-files."

Yugi laughed breathlessly as Atemu continued humming, the vibrations sending shivers up and down his spine. "Not a big fan of X-files, really," he whispered, groaning when the pharaoh ground against him.

//No?// Atemu mused, busily pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down his lover's bare chest.

/No…/ Yugi mentally responded, too busy moaning to make a coherent verbal sentence. Not that using complete thoughts was much easier… /But I do like the Discovery Chanel.../

With a noiseless chuckle, the pharaoh's smirk widened. //Most excellent.//

Their pants were undone with twin zips.


Make That Money


One song, one stage, one pole— two boys. Nearly identical in looks and charm, and yet, simultaneously different. One, as darkly seductive as midnight: with eyes like fresh blood and gold on his sand-swept arms. The other, as sweetly innocent as dawn: with an amethyst-colored gaze and silver coiling up and down his sinewy body.

Two sides of the same coin.

Together, as if able to hear the other's thoughts, they moved and ground and spun, caressing the pole, themselves, each other… earning the customers' leers, taunts, cheers, love, and money.




They continued to go out as a group as the years went by, the only difference being that Atemu had his own body with which to "hang." And that was fine— wonderful, even. They had fun, joked around, played games and relaxed… happy that, for once, they could do so without worrying over the safety of the world.

And yet, there was still some distance between them… rather, it felt as if they were two separate sets that had been meshed; opposites held together by a common force— Yugi.

Sometimes, Anzu wondered if she was the only one who noticed. The only one who saw how close Atemu and Yugi kept to one another, and how everyone else was kept at a fingers-length distance. It wasn't meant as an insult, she knew that… it was just that no one else could be quite as close as they could. No one else was allowed to be.

And she knew why.

After years of trying to deny it, of chasing Yugi, or Atemu, or both— she'd seen. Seen that she had no chance. Seen that she had no choice. Seen that they only had eyes for one another…

Seen the way they were kissing. Seen it through the Kame Shop window: Yugi sprawled over the front desk, legs spread, shirt undone as Atemu ground against him, the jutting angle of the glass display case forcing Yugi's hips forward and into his own.

That, if anything, had put space between them; changed "we" into "us and them." Not that the boys knew what she had seen, but… But it had been more than Anzu had been prepared to accept. They continued to treat her with love, with kindness, with respect—she returned the gestures, but only half-heartedly.

The other half of her heart was broken.




"…what sort of bet?" Atemu asked warily, lowering his magazine just enough to watch the brothers from over its glossy pages.

Merik smirked—smirked in the way that had convinced many of his alleged insanity. "Just a little bet. A game, really… we all know how much you like games."

Behind his brother, Malik nodded exuberantly. Atemu's stony face did not soften.

"What sort of game, then?"

"It's simple enough. Malik and I are going to try to extract the name of your beloved from you," Merik explained, slowly lowering himself onto the couch— cautiously, as if worried he might frighten his friend away. "We have a total of ten minutes to do so. If you win, we… we…" The maniac blonde paused, tapping a finger to his chin. "Well, what would you like us to do?"

"Turn the volume down?" Atemu suggested dryly, tossing his magazine onto the coffee table. "Some of us are trying to sleep at two AM."

Merik snorted. "All right, fine. We'll fuck quieter," he agreed, waving a dismissive hand. As he did so, Malik eased onto the couch as well, on the other side of Atemu, so that they made a vertical sandwich. Atemu noticed this with vague concern. "And if we win, you… hmmmm…"

Malik shot him a knowing glance, a grin forming on his lips. The brothers seemed to be trying hard to swallow evil cackles…

The elder twin's lilac eyes sparkled. "You'll have to dance at my club."

"…oh, hell no."

"Not permanently!" Malik chimed, voice sugar-sweet and coaxing. "Just one little dance the next time someone is sick. Right, brother?"


Atemu crossed his arms bitterly over his chest, glowering. "And why should I agree to this game in the first place?"

Both blondes set hot hands on Atemu's thighs, leaning forward sympathetically. "Because we know how much the secret is eating you up inside," they chorused, voices solemn. Then their faces cracked into identical grins. "Besides… we thought you never lost a game?"

The crimson-eyed boy stiffened. "I don't."

"Well, then," Merik wheedled, giving Atemu's thigh a light squeeze, "you don't have anything to worry about, do you?"

There was a moment of silent hesitation.

"C'mon, it's just a bit of fun," Malik cooed, tracing meaningless patterns on the young man's leather pants. "Don't be a chicken. Let's play the game."

"Well…" Atemu sighed, ran a hand through his hair, then shrugged helplessly. "Fine, whatever. If it'll make the two of you shut up… I guess we can play this game of yours. What exac—"

The words hadn't even left his mouth before the brothers attacked him. In a single, fluid motion, Atemu's arms were bound, his legs spread, and his eyes covered with a silk tie. "What the f—!?" he began, clearly furious, but was cut off when a pair of demanding lips met his, shocking him into silence.

A probing tongue curled its way into his mouth, delicately painting each tooth as unidentified hands pulled him downward. A separate force nipped at his ears, sucking sweetly at the skin of his throat and collar. Hands—four of them—began dancing down his body, tickling and touching and stroking masterfully, until all of Atemu's raging protests had melted into weak, muffled moans.

"Who am I…?" a voice suddenly breathed into his ear. The proximity of the lips made the sound echo strangely in his fuzzy head, filling him with tingles as the wet heat lapped at his flesh.

Atemu swallowed harshly, forcing his brain to work right. "Uh… Merik…?"

Someone giggled, a tongue trailing down the side of his cheek, as if following a tear. "Not quite yet, I think…"


"Let me try."


With a squawk of surprise, Atemu fell back upon the couch—his head cushioned by someone's hard lap, his hands held pointedly above his head, his hips fastened into place by someone else's. Gentle, inquisitive fingers inched demurely up his shirt, accompanied by breathy moans and whispers.

The person on top of him shifted; Atemu couldn't swallow his groan. "Ah—!"

"Who am I now?" a voice asked again—a softer voice, an engaging voice. In the melting recesses of his mind, the warped tenor reminded him of someone… but no, that person's voice was much sweeter, less dark.

"M—Malik…" he whimpered, his voice catching on a mewl. "You're Malik, not—!"

"Ooo, we're close now," the other voice purred, smoothing large, warm hands down Atemu's front and freeing the other set of fingers to dance down his—!


"Who am I not, love?" that seductively saccharine voice pressed quietly, fingers curling and pumping, pumping, pumping…

"N—not—!" Atemu writhed, working frantically against the heat of his body, thrashing for all he was worth. Still, the hands held him fast, molding him like putty. Something within him tightened, threatening to snap. "N…nnn—!"

"I'm not…?" A final nip of the ear; a rough, evocative rub.

The world went white. "Heba—!"

There was silence.

For a moment, anyway…

"Heba, hmm?" The voice sounded delighted. With quick, giddy movements, the drenched, panting Atemu was unbound; he squinted up at the smirking brothers, his heart sinking as he realized what had… Shit…

"That's the Egyptian name of your baby brother, isn't it?" Malik sang, more cheerful than Atemu had seen him in a while. Since getting that new frying pan, anyway. "Yugi, right? My oh my…"

"Little Heba… huh. No wonder we're such good friends," Merik mused perkily, tossing the bindings and tie over his shoulder. "Well, my dear Atemu, you put up a good fight… in fact, we nearly lost. Looks like you got to 9 minutes and 53 seconds… but still, a loss is a… a loss… eh heh… right?"

Atemu did not speak. Rather, he simply glared—unmoving, barely breathing, his already frightening scowl darkening further as his red eyes swirled with black.

The two brothers' cheer was dampened a bit.

Then they ran for their lives.

Yugi loved candles—loved their elegant stature; their beautiful colors; their subtle, exotic scents… Loved the ambiance they provided: the way the world dimmed, shrunk, became a softly glowing bubble of warmth.

Loved the way the flickering radiance would catch on his darkside's slick, tanned skin; loved the way it made his eyes glitter, sparkle like rubies; loved the way the lights and shadows would catch and swirl around their moving bodies: a metaphor for their own romance.




/Do you like it?/

Yugi hovered, invisible, beside Yami, who was currently in possession of their body—looking out the airplane window and down at the ocean beneath them.

The former pharaoh gave a regal nod, unable to un-stick the words from the back of his throat.

A small smirk touched Yugi's face. /Are you scared?/

Yami straightened indigently in his seat—then gave a small whimper when the plane hit a patch of turbulence. //…perhaps a little.// he mentally admitted, sheepish.

The younger boy smiled. /Don't worry, we'll be in Egypt in no time. And not only are airplanes the fastest way to travel, they're also the safest./

//They certainly don't look it.// Yami snorted, chancing another glance out the window and down at the rippling waves thousands of feet below. His stomach gave a funny twist. //What is this contraption made of, anyway? Metal? How do they expect it to stay aloft?//

/Don't think too hard about it; you'll work yourself up,/ Yugi advised, sinking into the empty seat beside his dark. Luckily, Anzu—the previous owner of the seat— had gone to use the girl's bathroom.

…which gave him an idea.

//…Yugi?// Having sensed the lust pouring through their mind link, a confused Yami shot his other half a sideways glance, looking a bit warier than before… though whether that was from his fear of flying or his partner's new, silk-smooth expression remained unclear. //What are you—?//

/Wanna take your mind off of flying for a while, Yami?/ Yugi interjected sweetly, offering Yami his favorite, half-lidded expression.

The older boy turned a soft, subtle pink. //Yes. But what're you…? Aibou?//

/Thank God we only have one body. This'll make sneaking in a lot less awkward…/ Yugi was musing, further confusing Yami. Still, he unbuckled his seatbelt and blindly followed his lover down the narrow aisle.

//Yugi? What're you talking abo—?//

He paused, blinking blandly at the bathroom door. Beside him, Yugi's smile widened.

/Ever heard of the Mile High Club, Pharaoh?/




"I've been waiting for you."

The words rung continuously though his mind, like the toll of some far-away bell. Never quite on the surface of his thoughts, it hung—suspended—in the back of his brain, always gnawing away at his more distant musings.

"I've been waiting for you."

Why him? It wasn't as if he could solve the Puzzle. He'd tried—how he'd tried!—certain that that had been the mirage's true message. But no… try as he might, he couldn't fit the pieces together, make them mesh the way they should.

"I've been waiting for you."

But if not to solve the Puzzle, then why? Surely the Nameless Pharaoh wanted more than just to collect dust on some old shop shelf, as if still in his tomb.

"I've been waiting for you."

"Hm?" The old man straightened in his seat, brought back to reality by the soft-spoken voice. "What was that?"

His grandchild blinked up at him, looking a little put-out. "Haven't you been listening at all?" he demanded, sounding a bit hurt. In his pale hands, a golden box glistened. "You asked me why I was taking the Puzzle off of the shelf. I told you—because I felt like it was calling out to me. That's what it did to you, too, right? That's what you said before... I thought I heard it say: I've been waiting for you."

Taken aback, Sugoroku stared down at the small boy before him—

And for an instant saw the Pharaoh in his eyes.

He understood.

"I've been waiting for you…"

With a soft smile, he shooed Yugi away. "Take it, then. The Puzzle is yours."

"…for you are the only one who can bring us together."


Sweet Treats


"…is there a reason you're eating ice cream off of my stomach, Atemu?"

A languid, purring smirk—half-lidded eyes glittering with amusement as the pharaoh's crimson gaze danced up his hikari's sprawled, shirtless body… much like his probing tongue.

He paused to lick his lips before answering.

"We ran out of bowls."




The gods gave me a choice.

You may stay here, with us, they said, their brilliance shining down upon me from some distance; their presence nearly blinded my soul. Here, where there is peace. Here, where you may rest. Here, in paradise.

Or? I asked, for I could hear the word as if they had already murmured it.

Or, they continued, their collective voice soft and loud and ringing all around me, we can send you back. We can give you a body, and send you back to the hardships. Back to the work. Back to the chaos.

A pause.

You do not wish me to go back. It was not a question. I could hear their opinions clearly.

Your time is the past, they gently reminded. The future is for those of the present. Stay here, Pharaoh. Stay here, where you belong.

Their light was warm and their aura sweet, but still— at their words, I felt cold.

But I do not belong here, I protested, and all around me the air seemed to thicken, to coagulate… the wisps of color and air and light congealing to my spirit. For there is no heaven worth having if I cannot share it with the one I love.

They could hear my decision in my words. It was a decision they did not like.

There will be pain if you go back, they argued. Lots of pain. Sickness, hunger, want, suffering…

It cannot be worse than the pain of losing him.

Life is hard, they warned.

But worth living if I can be with him.

The gods seemed to frown, unnerved by my steadfastness— by the solidity of the body I was already forming for myself. For this… for this you would leave paradise…?

I smiled faintly with my new-old mouth. "I left it already."

Bewildered, hesitant, helpless, they seemed to stare at me, contemplating and confused—

Please…I pleaded. Send me back.

— …then they softened, their aura warming again as they returned me to Elysium.



Elysium: \i-'liz(h)-ē-əm\ n.

1) The abode of the blessed after death in classic mythology.

2) Paradise.