Archive of Our Own ^beta

“If you thought dying was enough to beat me you haven’t lived long enough.” His words drip with sarcasm as he looks up at the man adorned in dangling ornaments and framed by golden bangs, a halo of sunlight and the rainbow glint of Kaiba’s own visor. Atem laughs like warm honey.

 “So what would you do once you see him again?” 

 Kaiba’s face keeps a blankness that is an answer itself. “Obviously duel him.”

 “Okay,” he empathizes cautiously as if he’s the little brother he’s checking in on. In Mokuba’s eyes, that’s probably not far from his intentions. “But I mean when you see him again. Like, bring him back.” 

 “Technology can’t bring him back,” he picks at his food and takes the cardboard pocket of fries to place on Mokuba’s tray. His brother takes them graciously, the smallest conserved smile pursing at his lips. Kaiba finally reaches to unwrap his own burger. He’ll never understand Mokuba’s love for fast food, not when he could go to any restaurant within driving or even flying distance. He knows his little brother doesn’t have his brand for flashiness, sadly, but they’ve even have chefs to cater to any palate he should have that day back home. 

 Mokuba eyes him thoughtfully behind a crooked french fry. “That’s not what you said before. I was just thinking, big bro, but you must have a reason for bringing Yugi—I mean, Atem, back.”

 “Having to bring back an ancient spirit that finally went to rest is sometimes just what it takes to duel against the real king of games.”

 Mokuba grins. “So you do want to bring him back.” 

 Kaiba must be making a further unamused face because it gets Mokuba to laugh. The patrons at the tables around them glance over and Kaiba silently takes a fry back. 

 “Maybe fly him to see snow,” he teases. “In your blue eyes jet on a white Christmas.” 

 He’s still giggling as he in turn slathers the rest in ketchup, insurance that Kaiba wouldn’t want any of his fingers on sticky on top of oily finger food. Kaiba is silent.

 “But seriously,” Mokuba smiles. “I support you, bro. Whatever you’re looking for with Atem, I want to make sure you’re happy.” 

 “Knowing I’m the only one who can compete with true king of games can’t make me happier.” 

 “Because no one else even knows he’s here?” 

 A laugh escapes Mokuba and Kaiba lets himself smile. He’s not wrong. 

 Without realising it Kaiba’s content there if it were a moment where he no longer had manipulated time. Atem, finally Atem looking back at him. If there was anything unsaid it felt as if a mere glance from him would be able to communicate. It’s less than a realization than an awakening where he understands the lightness in his chest upon looking at him. 

 It’s in the moments between each move, the sardonic taunts and dull snark between turns where Kaiba recognizes what it was he missed. Another win for Atem, and Kaiba mentally reminds himself to show irritation.

“Twice in a row today,” Atem smiles, mischief in his eyes as they map out Kaiba’s face. “Are you becoming complacent with defeat now?” 

Leave it to Atem to commit every minuscule change in Kaiba’s expression and piece together a read on him. It feels like a challenge itself now. 

Kaiba feels his lips pull into a smirk on the verge of being too soft for one. He straightens his expression and licks his lips. “I’m just getting used to the rules.” 

Atem hums. “Sure.”

It was interesting to observe the small hints of amusement that crosses Atem’s face in shallow victories. The slightest narrow of eyes and upturned corner of mouth. How he purses his lips to straighten his expression to neutrality that doesn’t hide the glint in his eye as if there’s an inside joke only he knows of. It’s an expression he’s seen countless times when he was just Yami, Pharaoh, Spirit, or just Yugi in his mind. Where he had two spirits that conversed and understood each other as one. It’s something he’s only ever observed, but expects what bond he has with Atem to be similar, yet completely different. 

Kaiba learns competition is more than wanting to beat Atem, more wanting to reach him. 

Atem pauses to lean over Kaiba, uncomfortably close. He could smell the ever lingering aroma Atem seemed to be fond of, something rich and earthy with flowery tones and wine. Kaiba holds his breath when he’s close enough to count each individual dark lash and see the smooth texture of his kohl. 

“What are you doing?” 

Atem pulls back. He leans in his seat thoughtfully, folding bronze arms and gold bracelets, soft and perfect in the afternoon sun. Kaiba read somewhere that pharaohs were considered gods once they passed. He could understand that.

“Your perfume—“

“I don’t wear perfume.” Kaiba spits. Atem fails to fight the smile spreading across his face. 

“It’s familiar. That scent.”

Kaiba doesn’t need to wonder if it lingers on him. Mokuba goes all out on Christmas. The decorations pile up until it extends to almost every room in Kaiba Corp., stretching further each year. He thinks Mokuba’s trying to test his patience. Kaiba won’t tell him he never minds what he puts in the rooms. It makes him think of his brother when he works. The amount of Christmas candles and air fresheners in his office are enough to cling to him now. 

“Probably something cinnamon or pine,” Kaiba brushes off at his coat. All he himself can smell is the earthy scent with each movement from Atem. He feels the other’s gaze too closely. “The usual Christmas nonsense.”

Atem’s face lights in recognition. His earrings sway and lofty bangs float lazily in disturbance. Kaiba’s suddenly stiffly aware of his posture leaning too close to the other man. He holds himself. Atem is just that short, even sitting. 

“Yugi was fond of that holiday.” A nostalgic expression crosses his face. Kaiba hears the bittersweet in his voice. It’s silent resignation and fondness. It’s unfit for a king, but it’s all Atem and his silliness for his friends and bonds. Thanks to him, Kaiba can understand the latter. After all, it’s what brought them together again. It’s something he shares with Yugi and that’s something he doesn’t want to think about. 

“Are you in celebration as well?” 

Kaiba shrugs. “Mokuba goes bigger every year.” 

Atem laughs, a heavy and languid syrupy sound. “Do you do anything?” 

Kaiba would flippantly give a vague answer but Atem’s eyes soft with nostalgia stops him. He hesitates. “We go out and eat wherever Mokuba wants. He appreciates the holiday decorations in the city.“

Atem’s listening attentively. It’s almost endearing. 

Kaiba clears his throat. “He gets recipes for us to bake. We try using the oven once and never bother with the rest.”

Atem’s laugh is hearty and Kaiba feels himself smile. 

“I can’t imagine you using an oven.” 

“Being here, I wasn’t sure you could even imagine an oven.” 

“Aren’t I living in one?”

It’s ridiculous banter, half the time making them forget where they are in the game. They start rearranging the pieces anew as Atem asks what’s the latest project he’s working on, how far his virtual reality has taken the public. Kaiba doesn’t tell him he’s the reason for any of Kaiba’s realities. He has half the mind they’re getting sidetracked and will have to fix the board once more. It’s alright, though. They have time. 

The sun has long since set across the desert when Kaiba leaves. When he surfaces from his pod back in the room he and Mokuba decorated with tinsel and cinnamon and apple candles, he thinks of flowery wood and wine. 

By the time Kaiba thinks he’s over the inane idea of a giving a present, to the spirit of a pharaoh no less, Mokuba tramples down his denial. 

“If you’ve been thinking about it for so long don’t you think you want to give him a present?” His little brother blurts with the unrestrained honesty only kids could have.

“I’m sure there’s a lot here that they don’t have in ancient Egypt,” Mokuba muses. “But what’s small enough to bring over and something he’ll like...You could ask Yugi?” 

Kaiba scoffs. 

“I could ask Yugi,” Mokuba teases. “Or knit a scarf as a show of your feelings.” 

“It’s Egypt,” Kaiba retorts, feeling himself smile. “And I don’t knit feelings.” 

Mokuba grins. “Of course.” 

This is ridiculous. He meets Mokuba’s eyes in the moment of realization and watches him jump forward in his seat. 

“Why not get him eyeliner? I’ve seen there’s colored ones too now.” Mokuba swipes up images from a tablet. “You can order the best around. Maybe even learn to put it on him.” 

Not a bad idea.

“In his dreams.” 

Kaiba files it in the back of his mind. He’s not sure how far Atem’s fondness in makeup reaches but it’ll be interesting to learn. Perhaps next Christmas. He has no plans to tell Mokuba he’d already bought a candle for the man. And who knows? Should his projects succeed and Atem wishes it he can really bring him to see snow one day. It’s a sardonic thought and he’s glad hasn’t said it aloud to Mokuba for how seriously he thinks of it.  

 He hasn’t even crossed the archway when he pushes the glass into Atem’s hands. 

“Mokuba bought an extra,” Kaiba keeps his gaze higher than Atem. Which wasn’t hard, especially with the man in flats compared to those ridiculous thick soled leather shoes Yugi still remains fond of.

“It’s Christmas.” Kaiba states and forgets his elaborate rationalizing speech to make this casual and condescending. Foiled again. 

“So it is.” Atem’s brows are pulled up in surprise and it makes his eyeliner rise, dark eyes crystal in the glowing light reflecting off every surface in the room as if the world was made to bask Atem in golden glory. He looks ridiculous. He meets Kaiba’s eyes, gaze framed by honey gold bangs and smiles. 

“Thank you, Seto.” 

Kaiba gives a short nod, the slightest tilt of his head just enough for Atem to take hold of Kaiba’s collar and pull him closer. Then Atem is kissing him. 

It’s brief and warm. Kaiba’s limbs feel heavy as Atem’s light weight bears onto him. It’ll definitely wrinkle his coat. Kaiba leans down, holding Atem’s waist. Atem’s weight falls back flat to his feet, gleaming eyes and a soft smile in place. His gaze is powerful and heavy. Kaiba’s already leant downward yet he feels as if he’s being pulled. The other man’s hold is still gripped tight onto his coat and Kaiba’s hands suddenly feel heavy against Atem’s tunic tucked into a band of gold. 

“It’s the same one Yugi and grandpa used in the shop,” Atem’s smile is blinding. 

Kaiba says nothing. Maybe it was too much to hope he didn’t know how he had to visit that cube of a store to see where Atem last called home. For now, the closest thing he could do is bring what was home to him. Should Atem ask, Kaiba would bring the world back to him. At the least, if he allowed it, Kaiba would bring him the means to return back to the world he knew, even if it was fleeting. 

Atem’s palm sliding up his cheek interrupts any train of thought. His lined bright eyes hold a fondness so intoxicating Kaiba isn’t sure if he’s leaning down or Atem has leapt to his tiptoes once more but their mouths are connected and Kaiba couldn’t care less. As they walk back to their usual spot where they duel and game with the desert landscape stretching out for miles behind brick railings, Kaiba revels in how light Atem’s hand is. This man who has touched so many lives in his wake and leave, given so much wordlessly because such was his influence and he knew it, knew of responsibility and deemed it destiny. He was a god in his people’s eyes and made to be treated in heaven as one, when he ruled in his prime. And still Kaiba wonders if he knew his own worth. It was all he earned and so much more. Atem intertwines his small fingers between Kaiba’s. He feels his grip, firm and unyielding and the only thought Kaiba has when he sighs against his mouth is how powerful a god truly is.

When Kaiba returns he works into the night, glowing amethyst eyes in his mind. 

 “I thought to return the favor,” Atem says simply one day after dueling. “As late as it may be.” 

Kaiba stares at it. Already he can smell the wafting heady scent of wood and spices, warm and familiar. It smells of Atem. 

“It’s a pinecone.” 

“Yes.” 

He can hear the laughter in Atem’s voice.

“You’re giving me a pinecone.” 

“A scented cone. Think of it as a potpourri.” The smaller man steps closer to lift it from his hands and hold it up to Kaiba in consideration. “Though you could honor the traditional way and wear it on your head.” 

“It’s a pinecone.” Kaiba’s cheeks feel of stretched cotton as he stares down at the other man. This close he can see each of his lower lashes that extend down before fanning over his eyeliner. Atem rolls his eyes. 

“If you don’t want it I’ll have it back.”

Kaiba reaches for the pinecone’s base, fingers brushing over Atem’s. He feigns disinterest and knows his eyes betrays him, focused on amethyst eyes. 

“It’s mine the moment you offered.” 

Atem laughs, fingers dancing over in letting Kaiba grip it, his empty hand lingering in his other. Squeezing back, Kaiba thinks there’s no other gift he’d rather have. 

It stays on his desk. Mokuba eyes it knowingly each time he comes in and mentions nothing, the smallest smile pulling at his face already saying too much. When Kaiba enters the room it’s an ever present reminder virtual reality technology isn’t yet done. There’s still another future for Atem and the lives he deserves to be in. They meet in golden sunlight and he’s greeted with Atem’s smile. For as long as he can give, Kaiba will be by his side to keep it there. And when he returns to his own world he’s reminded of Atem’s presence, how it shaped his present and future. He doesn’t tell this to him, of course. As he maps out designs and codes software surrounded by familiar woody scents and thinks of Atem, he works patiently to show him.