Chapter Text

Location: Heart
Function: Love

Kaiba Corporation looks like a rook picked off a chessboard and dropped into the heart of Domino City.

The building hums faintly; a constant, controlled vibration as systems and power grids communicate. It feels alive the way Duel Monster holograms do, almost sentient. Even the glass panels reflect selectively, flattening the city into something one-dimensional and distant.

It is not built to be climbed.

That has never stopped Mahad before.

He exhales, sets his pace, and runs. The initial impact is always the most jarring, snapping through his foot and into his spine as the world tilts. He lets that initial momentum carry him upwards, past the KC insignia to the body of steel frame and tinted glass. He has scaled the building enough times to know which grooves to avoid, and which will give him a better grip. The security personnel pay no attention to him anymore.

As Mahad climbs higher, the city fades away into obscurity. The wind strips away everything, even his thoughts. There are times, still, where Mahad feels so overwhelmed by modern society, the sensory assault of living in such a high-tech world. Parkour becomes a kind of moving meditation. Push, catch, swing. A mistake would be fatal, but Mahad trusts his body. This is why he does it: for the silence. A perfect, empty peace.

“Mahad!”

A window not far above him opens. Mokuba sticks his head out and looks down with a grin, waving him over.

“Already working off this morning’s pastries?” Mokuba teases once Mahad is inside the boardroom, sitting on the windowsill. He watches Mokuba gather documents into a folder.

“Seto skipped breakfast today.” Mahad had managed to shove a pear slice into Seto’s mouth, only for him to spit it out in disgust at the mealy texture. He pats the sling bag strapped around his chest. “I prepared lunch for him.”

Mokuba lifts his eyebrows. “You know, most people would just take the elevator to the top floor.”

“Your brother likes me because I am not most people.” Mahad winks. “Is he in his office?”

“Uh-huh. He’s reviewing the quarterly revenue figures today.” Mahad knows it is Seto’s most detested obligation. “You’d be a welcome distraction. His next meeting is in half an hour.”

Mahad nods. “Do you want any food? There is plenty.”

“Did you cook with celery again?”

“Yes.”

“Ew. No, I’ll pass.” Mokuba looks as repulsed as Seto did when he bit into the pear. “You know how I feel about anything green.”

“Fair,” Mahad chuckles. “I will be on my way then.”

“Seriously?! No elevator still?” Mokuba leans out the window as Mahad pushes off the glass and starts climbing again. “Is it mandatory for magicians to be adrenaline junkies?”

“Would you believe this is still easier than dimensional travel?”

Mokuba smiles, but it does not quite reach his eyes.

“See you at home!” he calls.

Home.

It is strange, the things Mahad has come to accept in this day and age. Trains and cars and a jet shaped like a dragon that can fly him to a different continent in hours. How something like the Internet can connect strangers across the globe. Electric guitars. Chocolate. Onion rings.

Perhaps strangest is how the Kaiba brothers made him a home in their world without him realizing.

Mahad uses both hands to pull himself onto the sundeck that extends from Seto’s office. (Seto never elaborated on why he had it installed, and Mahad never asked. Some answers are implicit.) He looks down at the cityscape beneath his feet, separated only by reinforced transparency. It feels as though he is suspended in air again.

His hand reaches for a staff that isn’t there.

It freezes, dropping when he spots Seto behind the glass. He is pacing back and forth while engrossed in some report. The corners of his mouth are downturned the way they always are when he is vexed. His blazer hangs off the back of his chair, giving Mahad a view of the sweater he’d been unable to fully appreciate that morning. A fitted turtleneck in royal purple that makes his face and hair look softer, warmer, like those months he was stranded in Aaru.

Seto starts talking to himself. He pushes his fringe off his forehead, then runs a hand through his hair. The strands resettle imperfectly, slightly messy around his face.

He is beautiful.

The rush of tenderness Mahad feels is not sentimentality, nor does it have anything to do with his impending return to Aaru. He overflows with it, suddenly needing to touch him.

Mahad taps on the glass.

Seto looks up. Afternoon sunlight slants across his face, melting surprise into fondness. The report is tossed onto his desk. A smile blooms as he opens the bifold door.

“And what happens when you get arrested for trespassing?” Seto asks, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.

The again is implied.

Mahad breezes past him. “You are president of Kaiba Corporation.” He unclips his bag and places it on Seto’s desk. “I like my odds.”

The second the door shuts and Seto turns around, Mahad grabs his face and kisses him. Seto yields immediately, welcoming Mahad’s tongue, stumbling, back hitting the glass. He pulls Mahad against his body by the waist and keeps his hands there. The kiss is deep and indelicate, and still, completely inexpressible.

Your voice is my favorite sound.

Mahad’s thumbs stroke up his cheeks and arc over his eyelids. Seto tilts into the touch and asks, “What’s gotten into you?”

“I missed you.”

Mahad is promptly backed against Seto’s desk. The sharp edge digs into his thigh before he is slid on top of it with practiced ease.

“That makes two of us.” Seto bends down. “My turn now.”

Mahad leans back on his elbows and spreads his legs in invitation. Seto’s eyes darken. Mahad sees the flitter of excitement in his chest mirrored in Seto’s expression. They have not looked away from each other.

Seto’s phone chimes.

“Fuck!” He silences the alarm and throws his phone across the office. “I have a meeting with some prospective investors.” Mahad sits up, but Seto pushes him back down with a predacious gleam in his eyes. “But it isn’t for another fifteen minutes. I could—”

“I have no doubts about that.” Mahad bats his hand away, smiling at the sulk. “But I am not here so we can have sex in your office.”

Seto turns and gasps. “Look! Out the window.”

“What? I see nothing.”

“Pigs are flying.”

Mahad slaps Seto’s chest as he stands. “I was being serious.”

“All right, I’ll bite,” Seto snickers. “Why else did you parkour up the side of my building and into my office?”

Mahad reaches for his bag. “I made you lunch.”

Seto plays with the ends of Mahad’s ponytail. A guilty tell. “I don’t have much of an appetite.” He never does when it nears the date Mahad must return to Aaru. “And I had a protein bar already.”

Now it is Mahad’s turn to be disgusted. Dense, chalky rectangles masquerading as food. “This will change your mind.”

“What did you make?”

“Your favorite.” Mahad unzips his bag and pulls out a container with a slow smile. “Nettles soup.”

Seto snatches it out of his hands, detaches the spoon, and tosses the lid away. He pauses to kiss the back of Mahad’s fingers in thanks. They share a laugh.

“Is it cold?” Mahad asks.

Seto tastes, and grimaces.

Mahad presses his forefinger to the bottom of the glass. The soup heats in seconds, filling the air with an herbaceous aroma. Seto doesn’t bother hiding how amazed he is, just puts a spoonful into his mouth.

“Have some with me,” Seto says.

Mahad shakes his head. He will not tell Seto this, but there is enough left over to feed Seto for days in his absence. “I am still full from breakfast with Mokuba.”

“That’s what happens when you eat your weight in pastries.”

“I had fruit also.”

“That fuckass pear was not fruit.”

Mahad laughs. Seto finishes the soup in record time. Watching Seto eat with gusto always warms Mahad, but even more when it is his own cooking. He takes the empty container from Seto’s hands and sets it aside.

“What shall we do for your birthday?”

“It isn’t until next month.”

Mahad encircles his arms around Seto’s lower back. “You are avoiding my question.”

“Thirty-three isn’t a cause for celebration,” Seto immediately dismisses.

“I disagree. Every year of life should be celebrated.” Mahad squeezes him around the middle. “Especially yours.”

Seto snorts. “Still trying to win me over?”

“I won you over a long time ago.”

Seto’s reddened ears have always been his sweetest giveaway.

“What if I taught you magic?” Mahad proposes.

“What?”

“You taught me about modern science and technology, even how to fix a car. It is my turn to teach you something…practical.” Mahad smiles. “It will be a useful skill.”

“Am I even capable? I’m not, you know…” Seto twirls his hand lazily before dropping it to Mahad’s shoulder, leaving the thought unfinished.

“You are capable of anything, Seto.”

Mahad’s faith is exact, absolute. Seto has shown him, in a thousand small, unremarkable ways, that there is nothing he cannot do. It is in his ruthless refusal to accept the status quo, how he dismantles failure piece by piece and rebuilds himself around it.

Seto’s eyes widen before he recovers, smirking. “I suppose magic can’t be that difficult to learn if Atem and Mana managed.”

“Mana was my top student.”

“Atem set the bar that low?”

Three knocks sound in measured succession.

“Enter,” Seto says.

The door opens. Isono bows to each of them in turn upon entering the office. “Kaiba-sama, Mahad-san.” His pause suggests he is already anticipating Seto’s reaction. “I apologize for interrupting, but the investors are here.”

“Already? I’ll be damned. The Americans are early for once.” Seto shakes his head. “Very well. I’ll be there shortly.”

Isono nods, then frowns when he sees Seto’s phone on the floor. He places it on the credenza before retreating, no questions asked. The door clicks shut behind him.

Mahad fetches the blazer off Seto’s chair and holds it up. Seto rolls his eyes, but turns around, allowing Mahad to slip it over his arms and around his shoulders. Mahad stands in front of him to adjusts the lapels. He runs his hands down Seto’s chest, admiring the turtleneck-blazer combination.

Seto’s body really is a work of art.

“Listen,” Seto says. “It’s my last meeting of the day. Wait here for me?”

Mahad raises an eyebrow. “You have important work to do, Kaiba-sama.”

Seto leans in to kiss his ear. “But I focus so much better between your legs.”

Mahad shoves Seto towards the door lest he embarrass himself with the tittering laugh that threatens to escape. Seto stumbles exaggeratedly. When he turns, his eyes are too bright, his smile too cocky. Seto truly risks being late for his meeting if he keeps looking at him like that.

Mahad waves a hand and the door opens.

“Wow,” Seto whistles. “You’re actually opening the door? First time for everything.”

“Go!”

Still in a good mood, Seto doesn’t argue as he pockets his phone. He pauses with one foot out the office. “So. Will you stay?”

“Yes,” Mahad says. “I will.”

Seto smiles. His relief is palpable.

Love is defined by strength gathered in absence.

What a gift it is to be here, Mahad thinks.

GETTING EVEN