#keeps the threshold | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alectoperdita · 7 months ago

Note

For the ficlets request, 'meeting upon the threshold' more in that universe of DSOD Kaiba realizing what the could have had and now he fucked up or just jealous DSOD Kaiba . (hope all is well with you sending all the good internet vibes)

Oh anon, I hope you were ready to receive a full-ass sequel chapter. Hope this satisfies your prompt(s). 🥺 They gave me a lot to think about (lol obviously, based on how much I wrote), and it's driving me more insane with yet more to consider. For now, I yeet this for peace of mind.

Read "Meeting upon the threshold" on AO3

word count: 4281 rating: M tags: post-DSOD, Kaiba being an asshole, one-night stand, open ending, mild sexual content, anal sex, unprotected sex

---

The forbidden fruit of knowledge sat with him—day after day, then week after week, festering with the sickeningly sweet scent of onsetting rot.

He should've discarded it. As soon as Isono, knitted brows visible above the lip of his sunglasses, handed him the dossier he'd requested, he should've ordered it disposed of. Kaiba recognized his employee's confusion, even concern. He even felt a bit of it toward himself. It had been years since he'd shown any interest in someone on the mortal plane who wasn't an active security risk, much less in Yugi's ilk.

Kaiba lost track of Yugi years ago when he retired from dueling.

But that was what made it confusing. Kaiba hadn't requested information on Yugi, but Jounouchi fucking Katsuya.

As much as Kaiba refused to admit it, his meeting with an alternate version of himself, one engaged to Jounouchi, haunted him. He spent more time than warranted replaying the encounter again and again in his head, searching for any hint of disharmony simmering beneath the surface. They might be blissfully happy or lying to themselves in a sham of a relationship. But Kaiba couldn't tell because he didn't know them.

Not anymore than he knew or understood the Jounouchi of his universe, no matter how much dirt Isono and the security team dug up on the man.

The files sat in a drawer in his office, the digital copy in his email. Against his better judgment, he'd pull it up and review the content every few days. After the first week, he practically had it memorized.

By the end of the second week, its luster grew too bright, too deceptively tempting, to ignore.

Call it a capitulation to curiosity; a momentary weakness. Either way, he counted on it finally purging his fixation.

Kaiba was ready to forget the unfortunate detour and move on. Put everything he saw of the other Seto and his fiance and bury it in a mental compartment never to be unearthed again.

Again, Isono demonstrated mute surprise not only because Kaiba left the office early in the evening, but the slight lift of his eyebrows said he recognized the address Kaiba requested to be driven to.

His bodyguard knew better than to say anything, though. If he hadn't made a peep when Mokuba divested from the company and moved to America, why would he start now?

Jounouchi, the other Jounouchi's words rose unbidden in his mind: "You already pushed everyone away, haven't you?"

Kaiba shoved the memory aside.

Traffic was light as they made their way to the old commercial district. Thanks to stubborn neighborhood associations, new development had stalled in this area compared to the rest of the city. The businesses here were family-owned and run by old timers more concerned with nostalgia than progress.

Time was on Kaiba's side. He could wait them out.

Really, he wasn't surprised Jounouchi opened his establishment here. If only so he could be another thorn in his side.

The first time he saw it in Jounouchi's files, he'd laughed. The sound resonated through his office. Never in a million years would Kaiba have pictured Jounouchi as a small business owner, especially given his rather spotty employment history. But a death in the family, and not the one everyone would've guessed, had gifted the man an unexpected windfall.

The restaurant license was legitimate. Kaiba checked twice.

Removed from the city's more vibrant business and entertainment districts, the neighborhood resembled a slice of time crystalized in amber. Its vibes were positively sleepy, and its streets were devoid of pedestrians. Hardly bustling. Kaiba doubted any business in the area qualified as booming.

He sneered. Appropriate—a third-rate restaurant in a deadbeat part of town, run by a deadbeat.

"Stay here," he ordered Isono when they stopped at the curb. "I'll call if I need anything."

Isono nodded. "Understood, Seto-sama."

Jounouchi's little restaurant was located down a narrow side street, on the ground floor of a similarly narrow two-story building with a slatted wooden roof. The place was little more than a hole-in-the-wall, with only enough seating to serve maybe half a dozen people. Perfect for a one-man operation.

Kaiba didn't hesitate before ducking under the entrance curtain. Red and patterned, it was surprisingly traditional.

"Welcome!" rang through the small shop. The lone figure behind the counter dipped into a deep bow. His voice was immediately familiar to Kaiba, almost instantly transporting him back more than a decade.

The shop's proprietor, Jounouchi, straightened. Something jangled against his chest, a long necklace slipping out of his collar. Kaiba's blood pressure spiked before he realized they were dog tags hanging from it.

Not a ring on a chain.

Slowly, Kaiba uncurled his fists, one finger at a time.

Clearly, Jounouchi remembered him too. Of course he did. Kaiba's presence in Domino was not one that could be ignored. His face was frequently plastered on billboards and featured in local and national media. Yet Jounouchi gawked, nonetheless.

It was amusing to watch the myriad of emotions flashing across Jounouchi's face—the shock, the confusion, and finally the outrage. Satisfaction welled inside Kaiba.

"Get lost," barked Jounouchi once he recovered, reaching for a knife before thinking better of it.

Kaiba did not. He crossed the threshold and took a seat at the empty serving counter directly in front of Jounouchi.

Up close, he scrutinized the other man in return. Seeing Jounouchi in real life didn't compare to the covert surveillance shots. The dark bandana around his head kept his blond hair under control. Navy chef's jacket and a white apron; he at least dressed for the job. His face was the same, more or less, yet his jaw cut sharper, the underside of his eyes darker, and his brown eyes less mirthful.

There were faint remnants of his once youthful boyish charms, but he was undeniably older now.

As was Kaiba.

But some things never changed between them.

"Is that any way to greet your customers?" he drawled, a familiar smirk lifting the corner of his lips. It was almost comforting, like slipping into a well-worn sweater.

Jounouchi clenched his jaw, the muscles jumped visibly. "I'm doing the neighborhood a favor and running off the vermin."

Kaiba's gaze darted upward. As he saw from the surveillance photos, Jounouchi indeed boosted an eyebrow piercing, two red studs framing the top and bottom of his left brow. Combined with his pierced earlobes and the short ponytail, he hadn't made a clean break with his delinquent past.

But maybe Jounouchi's lady friends appreciated the vaguely thuggish look. Or his boyfriends, if this universe's Jounouchi had similar tastes as his counterpart.

Seto couldn't be sure. The dossier reported next to nothing about Jounouchi's romantic relationships beyond his current singlehood.

As he met Jounouchi's gaze, his smirk widened, displaying every tooth possible. "Funny, that's what I figured you served in a shitty establishment like this, grilled vermin."

To his surprise, and perhaps even disappointment, Jounouchi didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he calmly gestured to the wooden plaques hanging over him. "I'm sure a smart guy like you can read."

Kaiba scanned the offerings. He didn't frequent establishments like this, as he preferred Western cuisine. The menu boasted the usual assortment of grilled meats, seafood, and vegetables, along with some ready-to-serve appetizers. The rest was a limited alcohol menu. When his gaze darted back to Jounouchi, he folded his hands on the counter and said, "Chef's choice."

For a second, Jounouchi didn't move, barely twitched as he took a shallow breath. Then, his expression steeled itself in preparation to meet Kaiba's unspoken challenge, and he burst into a flurry of movement. For a moment, he disappeared behind another curtain divider and emerged on the other side of the counter with a tray.

"Your otoshi," Jounouchi grumbled when he set a trio of small plates, a sake cup, and pourer down in front of Kaiba. He leveled one last glare before returning behind the counter.

Kaiba tried not to snort. Picking up his chopsticks, he poked at one appetizer, strips of braised burdock root and carrots. It looked correct and smelled fine. The texture crunched as he sank his teeth in, while the flavor was both sweet and savory. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Jounouchi pausing in his other preparations to watch him chew.

Kaiba swallowed without comment, and poured sake into the serving cup. Well aware of Jounouchi's lingering gaze, he threw it back in one gulp.

The sake was nothing special, nothing to write home about, but its crisp taste complemented the braised vegetables' flavor.

Their eyes locked as Kaiba lowered his cup. Jounouchi broke eye contact almost immediately, brows knitted as he concentrated on his knife and cutting board. He wielded the blade with confidence and ease, making straight cuts that sliced cleanly through a small horse mackerel. There was already other food cooking on the grill. Kaiba could smell it from across the counter that separated them.

If anyone walked in on them, an outsider might think they were nothing more than a cook and his sole customer. Despite the casual air Kaiba affected, he watched his every move. Jounouchi wasn't the sort to poison his food. Probably. Jounouchi didn't lower his guard, either, carrying his tension in shoulders and jaws despite his smooth and controlled movements.

The image of the other Jounouchi came to mind unbidden. Kaiba wondered what he did, if he even worked or if he mooched off the other Seto's good grace. It was hard to imagine Jounouchi, any Jounouchi, as a kept man, simply because he shouldn't have that sort of appeal. Compared to the other Jounouchi with his bright eyes and well-fitted clothes, the one native to his home dimension was rougher around the edges. Not just in how he kept his appearance, but also in his mannerisms. Like Kaiba, Jounouchi had also filled out since their teen years, namely in the chest and arms. The muscles in his forearms flexed as he worked his knife and grill.

After several long moments of silence, Kaiba couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "It figures this is the kind of cooking you took to—grilling meat on a stick. Positively caveman."

Jounouchi stiffened. He bristled, red creeping into his cheeks. He bit his tongue and said nothing, though. Instead, he plucked two skewers of seared meat and delicately placed them on a serving plate. He didn't touch the prawn and fish still on the grill.

Balanced on a wooden paddle, Jounouchi presented the dish to him across the counter. "Chicken hearts," he said gruffly.

Kaiba arched an eyebrow. Did Jounouchi mean to imply something by his choice of meat? But he took the plate with a neutral expression and, as much as he hated to admit it, the smell had him salivating.

He'd skipped lunch. It was the only reason the deadbeat's cooking seemed even remotely appetizing.

This time, Jounouchi made no effort to hide his staring, studying Kaiba as he ate.

Whatever Kaiba's usual culinary preferences, well-seasoned and well-cooked meat had universal appeal. The food settled heavy in his belly, warmed by sake. The otoshi and the alcohol had served their purpose, whetting his dormant appetite.

There was nothing to criticize. Not the flavor. Not the presentation. Not without lying outright or, worse, nitpicking. They both knew it, too.

Most infuriatingly, he wanted seconds.

Chair legs screeched as he stood. Without counting, he threw a handful of notes on the counter, easily three or four times what the modest meal was worth. Jounouchi made no moves to stop him, but his eyes drilled into Kaiba's back as he stalked out of the restaurant.

***

He should've thrown the files into the shredder the next day. He didn't look at them again, but their presence weighed upon him.

Later the same week, he ducked under the curtain to enter Jounouchi's robatayaki shop again. Two older diners, neighborhood retirees, were already seated at the far end of the counter, making friendly conversation with Jounouchi as he cooked for them. Jounouchi was nothing but smiles and laughs for them, beaming as if Yugi sat across from him.

Like leaden weight, the mirth dropped almost instantly from his face when he spun to greet Kaiba.

"Welcome," Jounouchi said flatly, drawing curious glances from his current customers.

Ignoring the pricking sensation, Kaiba sat at the opposite end of the counter. Jounouchi took his sweet time before suddenly appearing at his side and serving him a trio of compulsory appetizers and sake, like last time. To add insult to injury, he went straight back to his other diners without even trying to take Kaiba's order.

Frowning, Kaiba picked at the otoshi. Today's selection included chilled mung bean sprouts, kimchi, and potato salad, and the sake was warm. Same as last time, the food was palatable, probably even tasty to more pedestrian taste buds.

Every so often, a burst of laughter disturbed Kaiba, causing him to shoot daggers in Jounouchi's direction before he caught himself and forced his eyes back to his food. By the time the deadbeat acknowledged him again, Kaiba's sake had cooled entirely.

"Whaddaya want?" asked Jounouchi, voice flat and without mincing words.

They both knew he wasn't asking about what Kaiba wanted to eat. What did Kaiba want with Jounouchi? Why was he bothering him again?

Kaiba had no sane answer to give him.

To spite him, he ordered one of every item on the menu. His stomach churned unhappily at the prospect of so much food, but he refused to allow Jounouchi to intimidate him.

The chef boggled at him for a second before snapping out of it. "Your funeral," he said with a shrug before walking away.

Plate after plate, the food kept coming. By the third one, Kaiba felt ready to vomit. Instead, he left the food untouched as it piled up next to him, focusing on the alcohol instead. Time simultaneously rushed past in a torrent and crawled like molasses. It lost all meaning, reminding Kaiba of the limbo he crossed to and from Aaru. The only constant was Jounouchi, hovering right on the edge of his perceptions but otherwise refusing to engage with Kaiba more than strictly necessary.

Not unless Kaiba called to him, and he refused. People tripped over themselves to serve Kaiba, not the other way around.

Eventually, Isono came to investigate when he failed to respond to his texts. Slamming his palms down on the counter, Kaiba knocked over his chair when he shot to his feet and stormed out, leaving Isono to settle the bill.

He swore he'd never go back.

The same night, he dreamed of the heat blasting out of the charcoal grill, the dots of sweat running down Jounouchi's neck when he hunched over the fire, and large hands wrapped around the handle of gleaming knives skimming Kaiba's underbelly.

***

"Seriously, why are you here?" groaned Jounouchi. "Why are you haunting me like an evil spirit?"

Kaiba could ask the same of himself. Why did Jounouchi, first the other Seto's smooth-faced fiance with his soft hair and softer mouth, and now this rough but sure-handed Jounouchi occupy so much of Kaiba's thoughts?

Kaiba had lost count of how many times he'd been a patron of Jounouchi's restaurant. Their interactions may have thawed somewhat, but they were, by no means, friendly. At first Kaiba lingered after closing time for petty reasons, forcing Jounouchi to close and clean around him. Last time, Jounouchi plopped down next to him with a can of beer instead, complaining and insulting Kaiba the entire time. More sake bore Kaiba through the experience. Plus, it was nothing Kaiba hadn't heard before.

Tonight, Jounouchi had deflated. His face was almost haggard under the warm yellow light, nooks and crevices exaggerated by the shadows within them.

Kaiba felt as tired as Jounouchi looked. In the end, they were nothing more than two browbeaten men.

"Well?" Jounouchi demanded when Kaiba didn't respond. "Usually, you can't shut the fuck up, but now nothing? Not a damn peep?"

Kaiba hummed and sipped his sake. His tongue lapped the last drops from the cup. He licked his lips absently, noting how numb his tongue felt.

Jounouchi stared, his eyes as scorching hot as burning coal.

Kaiba did it again, and Jounouchi's eyes narrowed in anger? Suspicion?

Lifting his chin high, he smirked. It was always satisfying to needle the other man. "I don't have to explain myself to the likes of you. But it's certainly not for the pleasure of your sparkling company."

Jounouchi swore and lumbered to his feet. Kaiba watched, a passenger in his own body, as the other man stepped behind him and loomed over him, bracing the counter's edge to cage him in. "You're a shitty liar," he accused, so close Kaiba could smell the malt on his breath. "I dunno exactly why, but you're here because of me."

"You think too highly of yourself. You're a nobody."

Kaiba's head spun. Must be the sake he drank.

Jounouchi didn't back down. Kaiba wondered if tonight might end in a brawl. He could break Jounouchi's nose and give him a taste of the iron Kaiba found in the hearts and gizzards he served up. Jounouchi could turn his knife skills on a target capable of fighting back. And if they could walk away afterward, they could never see each other again.

Warm fingers nudged his chin, tilting his face up to allow Jounouchi to scrutinize him. Up close, his eyes resembled whisky, dark and honeyed. Blond fringes, dark pierced eyebrows, crooked nose, full mouth—when considered as a package, even Kaiba admitted it was not unappealing.

But Kaiba had better tastes in food and style. Better standards for people and the partners he kept in his life than Seto.

Jounouchi was fit enough to fuck, nothing more.

"Is this how you bewitched him?" he snarled, unable to stop himself from canting toward the other man.

Jounouchi blinked, then laughed, incredulously. "I can't believe it. There's no way we share an ex. There's no way that's why you started coming here outta nowhere. You're drunk, Kaiba. Call Isono so he can take you home."

He rolled back on the heels of his feet, preparing to draw away. To leave. To dismiss him.

Fueled by impulse—insanity, Kaiba spun in his seat, chasing him. His hands moved without his command, fingers closing around Jounouchi's chin in an iron grip and yanking him down to him. Their teeth knocked before their lips met. But Kaiba didn't release him, squeezing Jounouchi's jaw hard enough his own ached in sympathy.

A sharp inhale, and Kaiba instinctively tensed. This Jounouchi wouldn't hesitate to lay into him or perhaps gut him for an unwanted advance. But when he unfroze, he didn't shove Kaiba away, instead meeting him head on with surprising fervor. Kaiba hissed, both from the counter now digging into his back and the stinging nip of Jounouchi's bite.

The kiss he stole from the other Jounouchi remained fresh on his mind, as if it happened yesterday; mint-flavored, supple yet soft lips, and a hint of crisp aftershave, faded though it might've been.

Sweat and smoke clung to Jounouchi, and he tasted of beer. His lips were slightly chapped. Fingertips fluttered across Kaiba's cheeks, ears, hair, and neck, never settling on any spot for more than a second before soaring off. His hands were everywhere, roaming over Kaiba's body as if he was entitled to do so.

It made Kaiba light-headed. Good thing he was already sitting.

Heat. Spit. Teeth. The hint of copper on their busted lips and warring tongues. The unforgiving plains, peaks, and valleys of their bodies grinding against each other, like the catastrophic collision between tectonic plates, upending worlds and locking together for minutes that felt like hours and days.

They didn't so much kiss as fight to devour the other.

They broke apart, wild-eyed and chest heaving. They remained physically connected; Jounouchi's hands were now on his hips and Kaiba clasping his strong jawline, absently caressing the rough grain of his late-night stubble. Jounouchi licked his lips, and Kaiba mirrored him, causing the other man's eyes to darken further.

After a beat of hesitation, as if he was waiting for Kaiba to deny him, Jounouchi leaned in for another kiss. It was softer, reminding Kaiba of another mint-flavored one. But he kindled the embers of Kaiba's want as deftly as he fanned the flame in his cooking.

Something roiled deep in his gut, something familiar as he often felt it when he saw Jounouchi these days.

"I'm hungry," Kaiba muttered against the other man's warm mouth. "Why else would I bother coming here?"

They both knew he wasn't referring to food, though.

Jounouchi shivered. "Got it. Let's take this somewhere private."

***

They didn't need to go far. Jounouchi lived right above his humble shop, a fact Kaiba already knew from his background check. He didn't get to see much of it as they stumbled in the dark from one room to the next, hands clawing at each other and mouths biting one another. They fell in a similarly tangled heap into Jounouchi's futon, already spread open on the bedroom floor.

The slob must've never put it away after getting up in the morning.

But in this case, it was convenient. Kaiba didn't want this encounter to last longer than strictly necessary. So he was secretly glad when Jounouchi went down on him without asking. In the dark, he concentrated on the warmth and suction enveloping his cock. He could almost forget, forgive, it was Jounouchi Katsuya blowing him.

Jounouchi turned out to be quite talented at fellatio. Perhaps this was the reason the other Seto wanted to marry his Jounouchi.

A cackle bubbled in his throat; more madness. He swallowed it and slammed into Jounouchi's spasming throat, drawing a choked groan from the other man. The other sounds he made, the slurping and slobbering, were disgusting, but they made Kaiba even harder. They drove him to the brink of madness and back again.

Want, lust, want—they pounded on the back of his skull and throbbed in the base of his spine.

Grabbing hold of Jounouchi's ponytail, he yanked him off his cock. The hair tie came loose, spilling soft strands over Kaiba's fingers. He wove his digits through them and pulled again. Jounouchi moaned, low and wanting, going limp in his grip.

"Degenerate," Kaiba growled while his heart raced in his ears. "Do you want me to fuck you, Jounouchi?"

He felt, rather than saw, Jounouchi nod.

This was a mistake.

The words blared repeatedly in his brain like klaxons, but he ignored them. Just as he ignored his better sense protesting the lack of condoms and Jounouchi's pained grimace as he pushed into his achingly tight hole for the first time. Kaiba was clean, and if Jounouchi dared to give him anything other than an orgasm, he'd destroy him.

"Kaiba, move!" groaned Jounouchi, writhing under him. "C'mon, I ain't gonna break!"

Gritting his teeth, Kaiba shut out the rest of his thoughts and focused on the only thing that mattered at this moment: fucking Jounouchi. There was little tenderness to their coupling, though. No honeyed words or promises exchanged as he imagined their other selves might, their limbs twined together and sharing the same breath.

The pleasure was still real. It was enough. He lost himself in the other man's heat and tightness, gorging himself on his wanton moans and the flavor of his lips and tongue.

Soon, it was over, a flash in the pan, with semen cooling between their clammy stomachs and leaking from Jounouchi's ass when he pulled out.

He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, held it—dreading the change in the world; in himself to come—and released it before he dared to look down.

A diagonal slash of moonlight illuminated Jounouchi's eyelashes, his crooked nose, and his kiss-bruised lips. His eyes were squeezed firmly shut, peaceful if not for the furrow between his brow. As Kaiba counted the rise and fall of Jounouchi's shoulders while he caught his breath, however, nothing stirred within him—no newfound affection blossoming within his ribcage, no epiphany on how any version of himself could care about this man enough to want to marry him. No hate or disgust, none of the previous passion and hunger either.

Everything evaporated. The air between them hung stale and still, reeking of old cigarette smoke and poor decisions.

Instead, the hollowness in his chest was vacuous, and a bone-deep fatigue flooded the empty cavern.

Stupid, idiotic, he scolded himself.

Why would sex with Jounouchi change anything?

Rolling away, Kaiba grabbed the nearby discarded cover and cleaned himself wordlessly. It'd have to do until he got home. He didn't look at Jounouchi while he tucked himself away and fixed his appearance, even if he was within arm's reach.

The floor creaked as he stood, and he bit his tongue to keep from swearing. But Jounouchi didn't shift—never spoke to stop him as he beat a hasty retreat to the exit.

Pausing at the threshold, he glanced backward at the shadowed lump of the half-naked Jounouchi curled on the futon, with his back facing the door. They both knew he was still awake. But what was there left to say to each other? Nothing of consequence. Nothing which changed who they were and weren't to one another, two strangers who were barely acquaintances, hardly lovers. Kaiba showed himself out without a word of goodbye, only a faint snick as the door swung closed behind him.

---

Notes: An otoshi is a "compulsory" appetizer, which mainly means it's not free like you would see in some Western restaurants where they serve you bread and butter or even banchan in Korean meals. They are usually smaller dishes prepared ahead of service, like edamame or kimchi. Customers are billed for the otoshi. It is treated almost like a cover charge to ensure the customer doesn't occupy a seat for a long time after ordering one drink. Jounouchi gave it to Kaiba on purpose, so he's obligated to pay for something even if he doesn't order any food.

While this is basically a second chapter, I wonder if I should publish it on AO3 as a second chapter or as a separate fic. But maybe Meeting upon the threshold is better off without being attached to this sense of non-resolution? I'm curious to hear people's thoughts! <3

#fic: Meeting upon the threshold #yugioh #puppyshipping #violetshipping #kaijou #my fanfiction #replies #anonymous #writing prompts #pray the other ones don't turn out this long #but also don't be surprised if i keep futzing with this and fleshing it a bit more before it's posted to AO3 #but i needed to get something out just so this would stop eating my brain and i could work on other things

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