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Yugi adjusts the hot water bottle on his lap and clicks off the Gameboy. Not even Donkey Kong is enough to distract him from his misery.
It’s been a while since his last heat. Something about Atem’s presence in the puzzle has messed with his body since he was still a kid going through puberty, throwing off his biological clock and making him irritatingly irregular. It’s hard to tell when the heats are going to come on, and this one caught him by surprise. It’s always so frustrating that he’s unable to plan for them.
Yugi manages not to scowl at the puzzle as another full-body cramp seizes him, ringing him out like a bar rag. It’s not Atem’s fault he was a dumb alpha in life. It would have been nice, what with being his reincarnation or whatever, if Yugi had inherited it. Instead, his stupid biology made him an omega, and they just have to deal with how that unfortunate twist of fate screws with their shared body.
It’s not like there’s tips online or reference books for dealing with how chronic ghost possession affects a person's heat. They’ve had a decade to figure it out together, though. They make it work.
“You should eat something, Yugi,” Atem intones quietly from the back of his mind.
“I don’t want to bother fixing anything,” Yugi retorts, a bit petulantly. “And I don’t feel like eating, anyway.”
Atem becomes such a mother hen during these times. Yugi knows his annoyance is unreasonable and stems from the hormones, but it’s hard not to let himself be a little bitchy sometimes. He aches all over, and the ibuprofen isn’t helping, and he just wants to sleep, but he can’t settle, and it’s all driving him a bit up the wall.
“At least drink something, please.”
Yugi sighs and gets up to grab a glass of water, if only to stop Atem’s nagging.
Tap-tap-tap.
A gentle knocking at the door.
Yugi hesitates. He wasn’t expecting company.
Honestly, he really doesn’t want to entertain anyone right now. He’s grumpy and miserable, and his apartment probably smells mortifyingly like his heat. He wars with himself for a moment, half wanting to pretend he isn’t home. But politeness persists, and he decides to at least check the peephole.
Bakura is standing outside in the shadow of the awning, looking on with that serene expression he tends to wear. He’s holding a basket, lumpy contents hidden under a light gingham cloth. Yugi’s surprise and curiosity compels him to crack open the door partway and lean out despite himself.
“Hullo, Yugi!” Bakura smiles. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Oh, not at all!” It’s only… partially a lie. Yugi hopes the smile he returns is convincing.
“I’ve brought you a little something.” Bakura holds up the basket helpfully. “You said you weren’t feeling well, and I thought I might pop over with some get-well treats.”
“Bakura! That’s incredibly thoughtful!” He hurries to open the door, awkwardly stepping aside and internally cursing his rudeness. “You didn’t have to do something like that!”
As Bakura slips inside, Yugi scrambles to gather up last night’s pizza box and the various empty cans of bubble water scattered around the room. “I’m so so sorry about the mess! Normally it isn’t like this- I just, I ah-” Yugi babbles, slightly mortified.
“It’s alright, Yugi. No one likes to clean when they’re feeling under the weather. You don’t have to put yourself out for me,” he soothes gently.
Oh, and now he’s making Bakura feel like he has to make Yugi feel better! And after he was kind enough to bring over a gift! Ugh, Yugi’s usually so much better of a host. Yugi scoops the last of the dishes into the sink and turns with an embarrassed smile.
“Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?”
“Oh no, I’m fine. Thank you, though.”
Bakura has already started laying out the contents of the basket on Yugi’s coffee table. There’s so much! Fresh fruit, lotion, bath bubbles, chocolate… A bottle of green tea, and… a rounded wooden box with a hinge?
“Oh Bakura, this is too much! You went to so much trouble,” Yugi frets, hands fluttering in front of him. How much money did he spend on this? These can’t all be things he had laying around the house! He must’ve taken time out of his day to go to the store and everything. It’s an unbelievably sweet gesture.
“Well, an apple a day keeps the doctor away,” Bakura says, holding one out. Something about his placid smile and the cheesy line has Yugi needing to sit down. He’s incredibly overwhelmed.
He has to let Bakura stay! Shooing him out now would be such an asshole move. Yugi’s exhausted, but… but he’s not a dick! And it isn’t like Bakura is a particularly demanding guest.
In fact, Bakura currently seems content just gazing impassively around the room. Bakura has never been the sort of person who feels the need to fill silence with chatter.
Yugi very much is that person.
“Um, what’s in the box?” Yugi asks, trying not to sound desperate for conversation.
“It’s actually a game board.” Bakura flips it open, revealing a lengthy board lined with divots partially full of a colorful assortment of polished stones. The wood grain is handsome and lacquered, and the stones shine in the light. Bakura, like Yugi, takes very good care of his games.
“It’s called mancala. Have you played?”
“No, I haven’t!” Yugi leans in with excitement. He loves learning new games.
“I thought it would be a good distraction from…” Bakura pauses tactfully. Yugi flushes. Is it obvious? It must be obvious. Bakura is a beta, but he surely can sense when an omega is in heat. Oh god, does he smell? Does the whole apartment smell? Yugi shifts awkwardly, suddenly overcome with the urge to hide away. Instinct pushes at him, urging him to run back to the comfort of the nest of blankets and pillows he has waiting for him in his bedroom.
Bakura’s face softens, clearly noticing Yugi’s discomfort. Instead of finishing his thought, he settles next to him on the couch and reaches for the pieces, sparing Yugi further humiliation.
Of course, this brings them very close together.
Bakura sets about explaining the rules. Yugi is a fast learner, especially when it comes to games, but he finds himself only half listening. A good deal of his attention is taken up by the fact that Bakura’s thigh is about two inches away from his.
This wouldn’t be a problem if Yugi didn’t already harbor a secret raging crush for his friend.
“Would you like to go first?”
Yugi starts. He hadn’t noticed when Bakura had finished his explanation. Jeez, that boded well.
“Ah, why don’t you start. So I can. See how it’s done.” Yugi’s leg starts bouncing, and he has to force it to stop so he doesn’t shake the whole damn couch.
And so he doesn’t accidentally knock it into Bakura. Since they’re already sitting so close they’re almost touching, and all.
Yugi squeezes his hands together in his lap hard enough that his knuckles turn white. He’s overcome with a mad urge to reach out and- and what? Yugi refuses to entertain even a hint of a further thought about what he wants to do. It’s improper! It’s wrong! His brain is going a little fuzzy around the edges.
“Yugi?”
Oh gosh, how long has Bakura been saying his name?
“Um! Uh, yeah! Right! You uh- you move them like this right?” In Yugi’s rush to make his move, to seem normal, he accidentally brushes the back of Bakura’s hand with his pinky.
And electric shock surges through Yugi’s whole body. They both freeze.
Bakura’s hand twitches.
For one crazy moment, Yugi could swear he catches a whiff of what smells like… alpha musk?
Abruptly, Bakura stands.
“Have you eaten, Yugi?” Before Yugi can even respond, Bakura has already strode halfway to Yugi’s little kitchenette.
It takes Yugi a moment to find his voice. “Um… No. I haven’t.”
What the fuck was that?
Still reeling, Yugi watches Bakura rummage through his cabinets until he finds a cutting board and knife and starts sectioning a couple of the fruits he’d brought over. His expression is oddly blank.
An involuntary shiver runs down Yugi’s spine.
He finds himself standing up. Following.
“… ‘kura?” Bakura stiffens and looks away, hair falling in front of his face and obscuring him from view.
Yugi hesitantly reaches out to touch his friend on the shoulder.
All at once, Yugi catches a flash of gold and a feral grin, and then he’s being crushed against the counter. Bakura shoves his entire face into the junction of Yugi’s shoulder and neck, right on his scent gland, and inhales obscenely. Yugi is frozen in a rictus of complete shock.
The spirit of the millennium ring, he realizes with a sickening start. It’s taken over Bakura’s body.
Bakura’s as flush with Yugi as he can be with the two millennium items digging into their chests. The corner of the counter has ground sharply into Yugi’s lower back. He can feel the press of teeth into the flesh of his neck in the shape of a deranged smile. A full-body shudder racks through Yugi’s every limb, and he floods with a terrified, pounding sickness. “Ba-Bakura…!”
Without any warning at all, Bakura bites down viciously on Yugi’s neck.
Lightning splits open his body in a flash of blinding white, and Yugi is being thrown backwards through his mind.
* * *
How dare he?!
Bakura collides with the fridge from the force of Atem’s palm against his sternum. The man slumps against it and doubles over laughing. The bastard is laughing.
How fucking dare he?
Atem stumbles forward a step, suddenly overcome with the alien feeling of being in a body flooded by weighty heat. Not matter how many times he has to experience this, and he does try very hard not to put himself in this position, the wrongness of it always leaves him off-kilter. It’s impossible to get used to.
“Oh, this is a mess we’ve found ourselves in, pharaoh.” Bakura grips his own face in one hand, mouth twitching up and down like he can’t decide whether he’s upset or thrilled. His eyes are manic.
“You’ve crossed a line, Bakura,” Atem growls. “No one touches Yugi without my permission.” He shakes his head to try and clear the fog of anger and throbbing heat. That… wasn’t what he meant to say. “-Without his consent,” he corrects a beat too late.
Bakura scoffs disbelievingly. “Without your permission? What, do you think you own him?” Bakura’s hand falls from his face and his mouth twists into a mean grin. “You can’t possibly see yourself as his alpha.”
Atem fists his hand in Bakura’s shirt and tries to shove him back against the fridge again, but Bakura catches his wrist easily. “You do! You actually do!” Bakura laughs cruelly. “How could that possibly be the case!” He narrows his eyes and lowers his voice in a sneer. “You can’t give him what he needs when you’re like this.”
Bakura grabs Atem’s hip for emphasis, and Atem gasps around the explosion of sensation. It’s utterly overwhelming. Bakura digs his thumb into the dip of his pelvis, grinding t-shirt into flesh.
Nothing has ever felt so good.
How can such a small point of contact possibly feel this fantastic? Atem sways forward and has to catch himself to keep from falling into Bakura’s chest. What the fuck?
His neck pulses with pain and it hits him. Bakura bit Yugi. He marked him. Bakura bit Yugi in the middle of his heat, and now his body is overcome with the need to be claimed.
Good gods. What has he done?
Atem stumbles backwards, wrenching himself out of Bakura’s grip. Bakura lets him go, head cocked to the side. He narrows his eyes and lets out a knowing hum.
“… But it looks like I might be able to.”
Atem clings to the counter behind him and palms the bruised flesh at his neck. The pain tickles his skin deliciously, and he’s suddenly very aware of the dampness in his briefs.
That was another thing he’d had to get used to in his time as Yugi’s partner. Atem hadn’t been a trans man like Yugi in life. It has certainly been a… transition. To say the least.
But he can’t say he doesn’t like it.
Is that so wrong? To be a man, and enjoy having a cunt? Atem has never been particularly ashamed of it.
Bakura is watching him. There’s a clear challenge in his eyes, but more than anything he seems… curious. Interested. Waiting to see what Atem will do.
And Atem is nothing if not a sucker for a challenge.
He straightens, rolls his shoulders back, and makes a decision.
Bakura’s eyes flash with glee, and then they’re meeting in the middle of the small kitchen in a crash of lips and teeth.
Bakura’s hands are everywhere. Rucking up Atem’s shirt, clawing down his back, fisting into his hair. Atem settles his hands on Bakura’s hips, a casual iron grip. He’s not going to let Bakura control the pace.
Bakura smirks into Atem’s mouth and tries to buck forward, testing Atem’s grip. He doesn’t budge. Bakura groans and bites down viciously on Atem’s lower lip in retaliation.
Atem shoves Bakura back, and this time Bakura lets himself be crowded against the fridge. His hands go to Atem’s ass and squeeze with all his strength. Atem feels another pulse of slick slip past his folds and has to drop his head onto Bakura’s shoulder to take a ragged breath.
“Fuck me, Bakura.” It’s a command, not a request.
“If you insist, pharaoh.” Bakura grabs the waistband of Atem’s jeans and shoves them down without even bothering to unclasp the button.
The rush of cold air is immediately replaced by Bakura’s palm flat against his cunt, and he gives Atem no time at all to brace himself before he’s slipping his entire middle finger through his hole.
“Ah!” Atem gasps, curling into the sensation instinctively. His whole body is on fire. It’s not nearly enough. “More!” He demands.
“My, we’re eager,” Bakura mocks, although his voice is rough and low and very clearly affected.
“More, Bakura,” Atem growls.
Atem is so slick that the two additional fingers nudging at his entrance would have had an easy time of it if it weren’t for the fact that Atem’s skinny jeans are forcing his legs together from where it’s still bunched around his thighs. He groans in frustration and rolls his hips forward, trying to impale himself despite the restriction. It has the opposite effect, Bakura’s fingers slipping wetly through his folds instead of into where he desperately needs them.
Bakura tuts in faux sympathy and gives a lazy pump of his middle finger.
Done with games, Atem pushes away to struggle out of his jeans. It’s far less graceful than he means it to be, the heat thrumming through his veins making it harder to keep his head. Bakura just watches with a maddening little smile, enjoying the show.
“Get your dick out,” Atem barks, kicking away his pants. He doesn’t bother with his shirt.
“As you wish, my pharaoh.” He pulls his zipper down and takes himself in hand. The bastard has no room to talk about being over-eager; he’s stiff as a board, cockhead an angry red. His member’s nothing to write home about, Atem notes dryly. But it’ll do.
Bakura thumbs at his frenulum absently. “Shall we move to the couch? Would be easier for you to present for me.” He smirks.
“You’re not getting me on my knees, Bakura.” Even in this body, Atem is still an alpha. He has his dignity.
“Aw, what a shame.” Bakura hooks his hands under Atem’s ass and pulls their hips flush. “Maybe next time.”
Atem grinds against Bakura’s length and sighs a stuttering breath as it drags silky smooth against his nub. Bakura might be repugnant in character and class, but Atem can admit his presence is awfully useful in this moment. He makes a decent partner in battle. It would stand to reason he’d be a decent enough partner in bed.
“That’s it, pharaoh,” Bakura murmurs sweetly. “I’ll give you what you need.”
Done with preamble and unable to wait for more preparation, Atem grabs Bakura’s length and guides it into place.
Together they take a deep breath, and then his cockhead is pushing past Atem’s entrance.
Sweet, sweet pressure. The stretch of it against his rim is a heavenly strain, just this side of too much. Atem forces Bakura to pause there, hands in a vice grip on his hips. He breathes into it, adjusting to the intrusion. When he is ready, he slowly rolls forward, taking it to the hilt. Bakura groans, low, quiet, guttural.
They stay there a moment, panting.
He and Yugi don’t do this with a partner very often, and truthfully, it’s been a couple of years. And it’d been much longer since Atem was the one in the driver’s seat while they were receiving. It wasn’t something he had an overabundance of experience in.
They were usually fine just the two of them, Yugi and Atem, sharing a body and mind, sharing intimacy. It was all they really needed. It never felt like they were missing out on much without a second body to touch and hold. One could get a lot accomplished with a toy and some clever fingers.
So having a real flesh-and-blood dick inside him is a novel enough experience. Having a dick inside him while in heat is a completely new one.
It is pure ambrosia.
His muscles are taught. He is roasting from the inside out. He can feel every feverish pounding heartbeat in the walls of his cunt where it’s tight around Bakura’s length. He lets out a sob against Bakura’s clavicle, completely overwhelmed.
Yugi.
He scrambles in his mind, reaching out for his partner. He needs him with a desperation he can’t name. He’s suddenly certain that he can’t do this alone and is terrified of it. He needs his real partner. He needs his Yugi.
A phantom hand finds his through the darkness and grips tight.
I’m here, Atem.
Yugi! Oh Yugi, thank Ra.
I’m right here with you. You’re okay. Atem can see him in his mind’s eye, floating in the purple void, smiling calmly.
Yugi, I’m so sorry! I never asked if you were okay with this. It’s your body too, and I didn’t consult you. This wasn’t my decision to make alone.
It’s okay, Atem. I’m grateful, actually. I don’t think I could’ve handled all that. He shakes his head regretfully. It’s a bit of a messy situation. You’re doing really well, Spirit, I promise. He smiles ruefully. Besides, you know how I feel about Bakura. This isn’t exactly how I wanted things to go, but I’m certainly not upset it’s happening. Yugi bumps their shoulders together. Now get back to work. There’s someone besides me you need to pay attention to. I’ll be here the whole time. Just enjoy yourself.
Back in the real world, Bakura taps him lightly on his back, silently checking in. “Still with me, pharaoh?”
“Of course.”
Bakura hums, not entirely convinced. He thrusts his hips forward experimentally. Atem gasps at the bolt of pleasure and mentally squeezes at Yugi’s hand.
Apparently satisfied with the reaction, Bakura grips Atem’s ass tight and begins pounding into him in earnest.
It’s a punishing pace. The sounds involuntarily ripped from Atem’s chest are animalistic, frenetic, wild cries. He clings to Bakura desperately, all pretense of stoicism falling away to frenzied need. He can’t recognize his own voice.
“Please, Bakura, please, ahh-” He hitches a leg over Bakura’s hip to try and pull him somehow closer. At some point they’d hit the counter again, and good thing too, because there is no way Atem is going to be able to support himself at this point. He is gone.
Wracked with pleasure, completely under the thrall of the moment, Atem feels hot pressure building fast at the base of his spine. More more more, he keeps chanting. Whether in his head or out loud he has no idea. He feels half mad with it.
On a particularly hard thrust lightning rips up his spine and his limbs lock up completely. “Ahhhhh!” He keens. His toes curl, his thighs shake, and his cunt pulses furiously. It feels like he is lifting straight into the air.
Bakura groans helplessly and speeds up, chasing his own release. He hammers white-hot and unbearable and decadent and Atem can’t take much more and he can’t get enough and he never wants it to stop. Mindlessly, Atem’s hand flies to his clit and he begins rubbing it to match the brutal pace.
Bakura growls, sets his teeth in the juncture of Atem’s neck and shoulder right over his scent gland, and clamps down hard enough to split skin. The explosion of endorphins tips Atem over the edge, and as Bakura ginds down, stills and pulses inside, Atem’s second orgasm of the day tears through him. Distantly, he feels Yugi inside his mind, soaking reverently in the shared bliss.
There are a long few moments of hoarse silence as they strain to catch their breath.
Bakura’s softening cock slips out, and he steps away. Apparently a beta body, even under possession of an alpha spirit, isn’t physically capable of knotting. That makes sense, of course, but Atem can’t help the odd tinge of disappointment. Disappointment that is entirely instinctual, of course. The thought of being bound to Bakura for any length of time, locked in place, was utterly horrifying.
Bakura tries flipping his hair out of his face, but it’s stuck to his forehead with sweat. If Atem didn’t know any better, he’d say the man looks almost awkward.
“Well, that’s the only part of this exchange I had any interest in. I’ll leave the boring shit for my other.” And with that, the presence of the millennium ring retreats, and the golden item fades out of view along with him.
Bakura, the real Bakura, blinks blearily at Atem. Unlike when Atem possesses Yugi, the spirit of the ring always seems to leave Bakura a little out of it when he passes back the baton. He feels badly for the poor thing. The wicked spirit obviously doesn’t know how to treat his host well.
Atem gets the distinct impression that he’s overstayed his welcome. He has no desire to be left alone with this version of Bakura, and graciously hands the reins over to his partner to deal with the messy aftercare. He isn’t too proud to admit that he has very little skill in this area.
He lets out a long breath and relinquishes control.
* * *
Yugi settles back into his bones slightly off-kilter. This was not how he’d expected his evening to go. He’d been prepared to have a little tea, maybe eat some ice cream, watch a little trash tv, and settle in for the night. He had not been prepared to watch as Atem buggered the spirit of the millennium ring in the middle of his kitchenette.
Bakura is avoiding his eyes.
And Yugi is still not wearing any pants.
He flushes furiously and dives for his clothes.
“So, ah, Bakura, um-” Yugi stutters, struggling into his pants. Oh god, he is so wet. And- and fuck, Bakura’s cum is inside him! Holy shit. Oh god. What just fucking happened? How is this his life? He kind of wants to jump out a window. Or bury himself in the ground and never come out.
“I’m sorry.”
The words are so quiet he almost doesn’t catch them over the thrumming in his ears. Yugi jerks his head up in alarm just in time to see a tear fall off Bakura’s nose and hit the floor.
“Oh, Ryou!” Yugi rushes over and sweeps him into a hug. “You don’t have to be sorry! You’ve done nothing wrong!” Yugi can’t help it; he feels himself tearing up as well. “If anyone needs to apologize, it’s me! I put you into this awful situation. I’m so, so sorry.” A thought occurs to him and he springs away, hands up in front of him in a placating gesture. “Oh, um, is it okay if I touch you? I don’t want to overstep.”
Finally, Ryou looks up and meets his eyes. There’s a beat as they both process what he’s said, and then they’re breaking down in laughter.
It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?
But it isn’t, Yugi resolves as he wipes slightly hysterical tears from his eyes. He’s hiccupping, unsure of whether he’s crying from relief or shame or awkwardness or a horrible hybrid of it all, but at least it seems Ryou’s in the same boat. That… what happened may have just happened, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to check in and make sure everything’s okay. In fact, it’s probably even more critical that he does. God, this is a mess, isn’t it?
It would be easy to unload all the blame on their other selves, but somehow that seems unfair.
Yugi can still feel his heat thrumming in his veins, and he’s still flushing furiously with a tumultuous mix of emotions, but he can handle this. For both of them. For all of them. Whether this was a massive mistake or not, Yugi knows how to take care of people, and if Ryou will let him, he is going to do everything in his power to keep this from spiraling out of control.
“Is it okay if I touch you, Ryou?” Yugi asks again. He tries to lean into Bakura’s line of sight so he can’t avoid Yugi’s eyes anymore.
Bakura’s light brown orbs shine wetly in the light, but he doesn’t look too distraught. Just overwhelmed. Like Yugi is. They’ll figure this out together.
Bakura nods jerkily.
Gently, Yugi takes Ryou’s hand. It’s cold and clammy. Yugi squeezes it tight.
He leads them back over to the couch and bides Ryou sit down, then goes to fetch them both a glass of water.
“We don’t have to talk about anything right now if you don’t want to,” Yugi says, settling next to him and folding Ryou’s fingers gently over his glass. “But I need you to know something.”
Yugi brushes lightly over Ryou’s chin and guides him softly to look up.
“I don’t regret it.”
Bakura’s eyes are wide as saucers.
“It’s okay if you do. I understand, believe me I do. But I don’t regret a single moment, okay? I need you to know that.”
Ryou’s eyes flick back and forth between Yugi’s. Whatever he finds there, it seems to ground him. He nods again.
Hand still on Ryou’s chin, Yugi lets his gaze fall to the man’s lips. “There’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, if you’ll let me.” His eyes flick back up to Ryou’s, searching. Ryou’s mouth falls open just a little.
“Can I kiss you?” Yugi asks. He needs verbal confirmation. This, at least, he isn’t going to take without permission.
A moment more of bated breath. Then… “Yes,” Ryou whispers.
Yugi leans in slowly, carefully. He takes his time. When their lips meet, Ryou lets out a little contented sigh.
It is everything Yugi has ever wanted and more.
The circumstances are a shame, but… Maybe they aren’t. Yugi’s damned heat had pushed them into this, after all. Who knew how long they’d be dancing around each other otherwise? They were both kind of idiots when it came to this sort of thing.
They kiss slow and sweetly. Yugi pulls back just a hair of a fraction. Close enough still that their lips brush as he speaks.
“I’ve wanted to do that a really long time, ‘kura.” He swallows. They are close enough that Ryou’s eyes are crossed. It is really heckin’ cute.
“You can stay if you like. You don’t have to, but I’d like you to. We obviously don’t have to do any more of… of that, but… I’d like to cuddle. A bit. If that’s okay.” Yugi searches Ryou’s eyes beseechingly.
As an answer, Ryou leans down to touch Yugi’s forehead with his own and closes his eyes.
Yugi’s heart soars.
“… He bit you.” Ryou’s voice is quiet.
“Ah, I think it’s going to be okay. You’re a beta, yeah? He couldn’t even knot us. I seriously doubt he could’ve laid a genuine mating mark. I don’t think there’s anything to be worried about.” Yugi toys with his sleeve. “Besides, if it’s you… I wouldn’t mind so much.”
Ryou startles, leaning back to regard Yugi seriously. “Yugi! That’s- that’s-”
“Oh, that was a lot, wasn’t it? I’m sorry! We don’t have to talk about this right now. We can- we can just-”
Ryou shuts him up with a kiss. It’s even better the second time around.
“I don’t think I’d mind so much either, Yugi,” he tells him shyly.
“Yeah?” Raw hope is choking up his throat. Yugi hesitantly places his hand on top of Ryou’s where it’s settled against his thigh.
“Yeah.”
They’re both blushing like mad. They look away from each other, and a crazed giggle bursts out of Yugi’s chest. “That’s… That’s good. Then.” He clears his throat. “Real good. Um…” His fingers contract, brushing over the back of Ryou’s hand. Ryou flips it over, and then their fingers are curling into each other. Yugi strokes him lightly with his thumb.
They sit in silence for a little bit, and then, haltingly, Ryou leans his head back on Yugi’s shoulder and they settle into the couch together. It’s a little awkward, a little forced, maybe. But it’s genuine and sweet and unbelievably nice. Yugi could want for nothing more.
He surveys the little coffee table, littered with the evidence of Ryou’s affection. He went to the trouble of putting together such a sweet little get-well basket, all for Yugi. All because he thought he was genuinely sick. He cares for Yugi.
He cares.
Yugi closes his eyes, laughing quietly. Maybe this could lead to something more.
For now, his hand is in Bakura’s. His head is in his hair. And things are looking very promising indeed.