The Definition of Love .:1:.

— 1 – Back in Town – 1 —


Malik was shaken lightly awake by a gentle hand on his shoulder.  He blinked his eyes, his vision blurring into clarity.  When he didn't move, Ryo leaned down and kissed his lips lightly, rubbing his arm.
“Made it,” he whispered.  “We're home.”
“Already?” Malik croaked.  His half-British lover chuckled.
“What do you mean, 'already?'  It's almost midnight, love.”  Ryo moved himself out of the way of Malik's raising arms as the Egyptian stretched, his chest rising and falling with a tired moan under a black tank top and suede vest.  The kohl mascara he'd been wearing only hours earlier was smudged, and his platinum-blond hair was messy and tangled.  God, he hated planes.  The jet-lag was killing him.
“Damn these time zones,” he sighed.  “Damn the late-night flights.”
“Come on, Malik.  I'll help you carry your bags inside, and you can eat before you go to bed.  How's that sound?”
“Ooh, decent food...I'm up...” Malik sat up and opened his car door, like a zombie rising from the dead, and Ryo followed suit to open up the trunk of his car.  Malik was the first to reach in for a bag after Ryo lifted up the trunk door.
“Umph!  Oh, God!  I forgot how heavy these things were while I slept!”
Ryo laughed and assisted Malik in dragging out the first of three large travel bags, afterwards taking one himself while Malik wheeled his share to the front door.  Ryo fished out the keys, and unlocked it.  Ishtar yawned.
“What luck that I should move in after your birthday, huh, Ryan?”
“Ryo!” he growled.  “No American names allowed...” he walked inside first with his lover close in tow.  Malik moaned again.
“Can we move the bags up tomorrow?  Pleeease?”
“If you want more work, you can.  I go to work early tomorrow.”
Malik pouted.  “You're cruel...fine, then let's hurry up.  I'm starving.”  He paused.  “Oh, um, Ryo...you do have stuff for your little vegetarian, don't you?”
“Of course,” Ryo said with a grin as he worked his way up the stairs, “I prepared myself for your arrival.”
Malik and Ryo eventually moved all of Malik's bags to his new room upstairs, and Malik cracked a few joints (back and knuckles in particular) before sighing.  “Whoo...I'll have to spice this room up a little.  It's so...damn...ugly.” he groused, observing the neon-green walls, the mismatching furniture, and the naked, frameless mattress serving for a bed.  Ryo came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Malik's waist, lifting himself up slightly on his toes to let his lips brush over a dark, sandy-colored neck.
“I didn't use it much, so I left it alone.  I can help you with a paint job if you want.”
“Oh, yes, please.”  Malik agreed, grimacing at the choice of colors again.  “I think some black and amethyst is in order.”  He shook his head.  “Amethyst, damn it.  No bright J-pop otaku colors for me...”
Ryo giggled and kissed Malik's cheek.  “You complain a lot when you're grumpy.”
“I was on a plane for almost twelve hours!”
“Hehehe...I concede to the point.  Would you like some fruit salad?”
“God, yes!  Fruit!  Veggies!  Legumes!”  Malik pumped his arms in the air like a raving fanboy and quickly rushed back downstairs.  “Those bastards served nothing vegetarian!  I didn't eat a thing all day!  Their crappy peanuts can suck my—”
“Pickles!”  Ryo interrupted, pushing Malik aside when the Egyptian attempted to raid his fridge.  Malik grinned.
“Not exactly what I had in mind, but it's close enough.”
“No, pickles.  Do you want them?”  Ryo revealed a half-filled jar of crunchy, fat, green pickles.  “They're the only non-meat things I can eat, and I still can't finish the jar.”  Malik looked at the jar suspiciously.
“Sweet or sour?  They apparently have sweet ones.”
Ryo frowned.  “Um...regular.” he replied, confused.  Malik snatched the top off and claimed the biggest one of the bunch.
“Good enough for me,” he said, chomping into the dripping-wet item of food.  Ryo just smiled and rolled his eyes, capping the jar and putting it back as he began to collect things that he would need.  Canteloupe, strawberries, lettuce...
“I'll fix you your salad, okay?”
Speaking with his mouth full, Malik shrugged.  “Wrksh fr me.”  He wiped pickle drool off the side of his mouth.  Who cared about elegance or manners?  It was midnight, and the fridge was open-season.  Beastliness was officially allowed.
“So where are you studying for college?” Ryo asked, attempting to chop the canteloupe into bite-sized pieces.
“Nagoya U.” Malik answered, taking another bite of pickle.  He swallowed before continuing.  “Dunno how good it is, but it's the closest one to here.”
“Oh, you're so tunnel-minded!”  Ryo scolded.  “You shouldn't think of me, you should be thinking of your classes.  Are you going to major anything?”
“Motocross.”  Malik laughed.  Ryo groaned his response.
“I should have sold that wicked thing to the Honda company.  Don't ever take me riding on that again, please.”
“Why not?  You loved it,” the Egyptian pointed out.
“When I was riding it by myself, in an empty parking lot,” Ryo growled as he cut up the strawberries next.  “With you, it's like Daredevil and Hellboy crushed into a broom closet.  Back to your majors.”
“World History, of course.  I gotta take care of the museum when Isis retires.”
“Really, now!  When you started taking up drums, I figured it would be music.”  The albino thought a moment.  “Come to think of it...I'm surprised you were able to attend school...”
Malik laughed.  “Isis home-schooled me while I was underground.  Just because I was isolated from the outside world doesn't mean I knew nothing about it.  Father would've been pissed if he found out, though...” instinctively, Malik's hands rubbed the plane of hieroglyphic scars carved into his back.  He tried not to think about it; even after all these years, he could still feel the white-hot knife, and see the candlelight casting his six-year-old shadow on the walls.
Ryo heard the momentary silence and quickly finished fixing Malik his fruit salad.
“Enough about that, then.  We'll talk more tomorrow.  Do you know your class schedule...?”
“Sure!  Day classes go from ten to four for me, and I have night classes at seven, nine and eleven.  I get a daytime break around noon for lunch.”  Malik took the bowl of salad and a spoon after finishing his pickle with a final bite, and gave Ryo a chaste kiss on the cheek.
“You're such a dove, thanks so much for the food.”
“Hnn, you're welcome.” Ryo purred.  “I'll be upstairs when you're done, 'kay?”
“Yup,” Malik grunted, stuffing his face with strawberries and lettuce.  Ryo smiled and gave his Egyptian a tight hug before retreating upstairs to go to bed.  It had been a long drive to and from the airport; he was tired.  He was sure Malik was, too—he'd probably been up since five or something in Egypt.
Wow...Malik...was going to college.  Times sure have changed, Ryo thought.  About six years ago, he would've been riding his bike around like a vagabond without a care in the world.  And now look, he's 21 and going to college.
Ryo sighed to himself as he let his body fall onto the East-meets-West hybrid bed of his room, hugging a single fluffy white pillow.  And he's bunking with me, to boot.  I'm the luckiest boyfriend in the world!  He grinned at the thought.  Things are gonna be great...

{~||//--==+==--\\||~}

“Things are gonna be great, Malik.  Wait and see.”
“How do you know...?”
“'Cause.  You're...My Pharaoh.”

An alarm clock woke him up.  “Kuso!!”  Jonouchi practically flew out of bed and scrambled for clean clothes and a bar of anti-perspirant.  “Baka!  You're late again!  Aaaah, he's gonna kill me...!”
Shizuka knocked on the already-open door of her brother's bedroom, and laughed.  “Talking to yourself again, Nii-chan?”
“Can't talk, gotta go, love you Shizuka!”  Jonouchi gave his sister a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, grabbed his apron, and stomped like an elephant down the stairs.
“There's mail for you on the table!  It's from Spain!”  Shizuka shouted.
“Arigato, Nee-chan!  Ja ne!”  Katsuya Jonouchi quickly grabbed the square-shaped package for him on the table and sped off in his car for work.  It was 9:30 already, and he was supposed to be at work an hour ago!  His boss was going to kill him!  It took at least thirty minutes to get to work...
Jonouchi tried to calm himself down by checking the mail for him at the next long stop light (he'd literally memorized the length of each light on his way to work).  Spain, just like Shizuka said.  He opened it up quickly, glancing up to check the light once in a while.  Inside was an American CD he'd been dying to borrow—with a note.

Here's the CD ya wanted, mate.  Scratch it and you're a dead man.

Ja ne! ^_^  ~Varon

“Yes!”  Jonouchi took Metallica's self-named black album CD out of its case and slid it into the player.  “Varon, you just made my day ten times better!”  He suddenly cringed as he was searching for his favorite song, though.  “...Until Yamato-san starts yelling at me...”
Jou decided to try and not think about that when he came to the song he'd been looking for.  He'd heard it so many times online, he'd memorized the lyrics and the guitar solos.  He even started “strumming” his fingers against the steering wheel as the music escalated.  He would be headbanging a little if he weren't so tired...and trying to drive.


And the road becomes my bride
I have stripped of all but pride
So in her I do confide
And she keeps me satisfied
Gives me all I need

And with dust in throat I crave
Only knowledge will I save
To the game you stay a slave
Rover, wanderer,
Nomad, vagabond,
Call me what you will

But I'll take my time anywhere
Free to speak my mind anywhere
And I'll redefine anywhere
Anywhere I roam
Where I lay my head is home...


Deciding to turn up the music, Jou encountered another stop light.  The heavy metal song made his car seem to vibrate, but he didn't care.  Singing as best he could to the song (his English wasn't that good), his worries returned and his singing turned to whimpers.  Jonouchi bit his thumbnail as he looked out the window—then blinked and stopped to take a double-check.
Right in the next lane, there was a young man in a black vest with dark amethyst-colored jeans on a carefully custom-painted motorcycle.  Dark skin, bright blond hair.  Jonouchi's heart stopped; he leaned over to the other side and squinted, not caring how obvious he looked.  The man didn't seem to be caring, anyway.  He bit his lip.  Could it be?  No...he was in Egypt...
It was then that Jou barely heard his cell phone ringing.  Again he panicked, and quickly turned down the volume of the music, answering.
“Moshi-moshi?”
“Moshi-moshi, Bonkatsu.”  Jonouchi's eyes sparkled, and a perfectly childish smile spread from ear-to-ear on his face.
“Kaiba-kun!  You called me!”
There was an expectant grunt.  “You were late for work again.”
Jonouchi blushed and held the phone to his ear with his shoulder, remembering that he should probably keep both hands on the wheel.
“I know, I know...but you don't have to worry, Kaiba-kun.  It won't happen again.”
“What did I say about calling me Kaiba-kun?” Seto growled.  “I told you, you can just call me Seto.  Bonkatsu.”
Jonouchi grumbled.  “For every time you call me Bonkatsu, that's one chance for me to call you Kaiba-kun, so you better knock it off.”
“Whatever.” Seto replied.  “Yamato was pissed at you, don't you know that?  He would have chewed your head off.”
Jou paused to think.  “...Seto?  Would have?”
“Past tense isn't that hard, pup.”  Oh, Jou could just see Seto leaning back in his leather wheelie right now.  “Would have.  If I hadn't called and saved your lazy ass.  I thought you'd sleep in this morning, so I phoned in to check.  I was right?”
Katsuya grumbled.  “You already have the proof; I'm calling you on my way there...why, you wanna hear it from me?”
“That was the general plan.”
“You cold-hearted bastard,” Jou laughed, shaking his head.  Then he grinned.  “By the way, koi-koi...”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.  Seto was reading his behavior.  Jonouchi could picture his lover with a displeased frown on his face right now, and it made him smirk.
“...Yes...?”
Jonouchi tried to sound as sultry as possible, with the insanely stupid grin that was on his face.  “What are you wearing?”
“Jeans and a white duster.”  Jonouchi opened his mouth to comment.  “Yes I'm shirtless, yes I have bed-head.”  Again, Jonouchi tried to speak.  “And I'm sitting in front of my computer, and now I need to go to a meeting.”
“Awww, I was turned on until you mentioned the word 'computer.'  You suck...” then he gasped.  “Oooh, you're going to a meeting shirtless?  You're dirty!”
“Baka!  I'm not finished dressing!”
Jou laughed, but it quickly slipped his conscious thought to be happy.  “...Kaiba-kun?  Are you mad at me?”
Seto sighed.  “No...I guess not.”
“You guess not?”
“You're already in the pits, Katsuya.  If I let you sink any lower, you'll be rolling over on your back and pawing at the air the next time you ask me for money.  Complete with the puppy whine.  I may as well strap you with a collar and—”
“Okay, okay!”  Jonouchi whined.  “I get it, I get it, I get it.  Geez.  Don't rub it in...”
A silence passed between the two of them.  Jonouchi swallowed the lump in his throat; he was kind of upset that Seto was doing this just to save his money.  He was hoping maybe Seto was doing it just to...you know...be nice.  Guess that was wishful thinking out the window.
“S-Seto?  Arigato...”
“Don't mention it, pup.”  Seto's voice dropped to that threateningly serious tone he always had at some point during the day.  “Ever.”
“Yeah...” Jonouchi sighed.  His eyes glazed over and he stared at the road ahead, entranced by the third stop light.
“...Seto?”
“Yes, Katsuya?”
Again with the last name.  Jou couldn't stand it.  Why was it that he could call Seto by his first name, but Seto always called him “pup” or “Bonkatsu” or “Katsuya”?  Even just Jou would do.
“Come on, Katsuya, what is it?  I need to get ready for the meeting.”
The words caught in his throat.  Jonouchi parted his lips, and they choked out of his vocal chords.  “I...I love you.”  As best he could, he said it in English.  When another short pause came, Jou tried to see Seto with a solemn, quiet smile on his face.  He couldn't get the expression right.  Seto never smiled.
“I love you too.”
Disappointment hit him like a brick, and Jonouchi hung up when he heard a flat dial tone.  Seto had failed his test.  Could he say those words?  Of course he could.  Could he say them with feeling?
That was, as they say, a horse of a different color.
And work wasn't that much better, either.  Jonouchi stood stiffly in place at the local American McDonald's restaurant while Yamato-san sang his heart out about punctuality, responsibility, and that Jonouchi hadn't brushed his teeth that morning.  What scared Katsuya was that a 50-year-old man was inspecting his breath.  Obviously, being saved from getting fired wasn't saving him from being scolded forever and a day—loudly.  All Jonouchi did was clap his hands together, hold them up in a prayer fashion above his head, and bow very, very low, crying: “Gomen nasai, Yamato-san!”
“Soo da ne?” Yamato growled.  “Well, I'll let you off this time.  And just 'cause I'm a nice manager, I'm giving you extra pay this week for encouragement.  But you'd better work to earn it, Katsuya!  You hear me?  One more mess-up and I'll throw you out on the streets, where you belong!”
Jonouchi only snickered when Yamato wasn't looking.  Seto had even convinced the old geezer to give him a temporary raise.  He might be a cold-assed son-of-a-bitch, but having a millionaire for a boyfriend sure as hell came in handy.  Best part of it was, Yamato was most likely too scared to do anything about it, even though he knew it was blackmail.  Because, after all, it was the word of Kaiba Seto, the youngest and most powerful company President in Japan.  He took his post behind the cash register.
Hour after hour, customers came more and more, then less and less.  It was always slow in the mornings, and Jonouchi was absolutely bored out of his mind (like everyone else with the morning shift).  For the most part, if he wasn't ordering up, he was watching the second hand on the wall clock tick by.  Eventually, he lost nearly all concentration and could do both at the same time.  Yamato, of course, didn't say a word.  He saw a shadow cast itself on the counter in front of him after hours of close to no customers when the minute hand hit 12:27.
“Welcome to McDonald's,” he droned, “How may I help you?”
“...Jou?”
Jonouchi blinked his eyelids, and was afraid to turn his head.  But his eyes saw the dark-skinned hand on the table, and nostalgia flooded him for a moment.  Most of it was happy.  Some of it he would rather not remember.
“...Yes...who wants to know?”
“Jou, it's me!”
Jou dared to turn his gaze to the person across the counter.  Bright, kohl-lined violet eyes looked back at him, coupled with a blinding-white smile between a pair of (still, if he recalled right) kissable sun-darkened lips.  His chocolate-brown eyes became the size of cup saucers, and he slammed his hands down on both sides of the cash register.
“Ishtar?!”
“Katsuya!”  Malik cried.
“Oh, my God!”  Jonouchi blushed and tried to take off his ridiculous apron and hat.  “Y-You're kidding!  Malik?!  I thought you were—”
“I was!”  Malik said excitedly, clasping his hands together as he seemingly read Jou's mind.  “I came here for education and all that good bull!  My God, Katsuya, what are you doing here?”
Jonouchi's face turned even redder.  “Working,” he grumbled, “Regretfully.”
“Well, can you get me a salad then?  I'm famished.  I'm on lunch break.”
“No way!”  Jonouchi shook his head.  “Wait there, okay?  I'll be right back!”  Katsuya quickly rushed to Yamato's office and shoved the door open.  Without even looking at the stunned face of his boss, Jonouchi dropped to his knees, smacked his hands together in front so his fingers were touching, and cow-towed.
“Pleeeease, Yamato-samaaa!  Let me off my shift early!  Just this once!  Pleeeease!!”
“Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?!”  Yamato roared, ripping himself up from his seat.  “Get back to that counter and work, Katsuya!  You disgraceful dog!  I give you a raise, and this is the behavior I get?  No pay for you!”
Jonouchi then turned to his second—and last—method of defense.  He looked up at Yamato with a mischievous grin, his eyes shadowed by his golden blond hair.
“If you don't let me off early, he's going to sue you to the tenth Circle of Hell.”
He swore he could see Yamato's sweat.  “Wh...What...What are you saying?  'He?'”
“You know...him.”  Jonouchi purred, sounding like a tiger in the hunt.  During the awkward quiet, in which he could only hear the monotone of the flourescent lights, Jou saw the utter fear on his boss's face, the shock of it all that made his big, fat arms shake with fury.  He tried to engrave this moment into his memory, because he didn't want to forget it.
“...Kuso...g-go!  Get the hell out of here!  And you better come in an hour early tomorrow, you hear?  ONE hour!”
Jonouchi bowed so low that his head bumped against the tile as he thanked him (repeatedly), but he didn't care.  In a flash, he was out from behind the counter and grabbing Malik by the arm.
“J-Jou, what happened to your forehead?  And what was that screaming?”
“That was the lecture of freedom!”  Jonouchi bragged.  “Oh, and my forehead's fine.  Just a little ringing in my brain is all.”
“Wh-What?  Where are we going?”
“Food, of course!”
Malik's brow wrinkled together in puzzlement.  “But...we're in a restaurant already...and I want my fruit salad!”
“The salad here sucks, Malik, I know a place that's a whole lot better.”
Jonouchi had to bolt when he said that, because Yamato-san had come out from his office just at that moment.  He wasn't pleased.  Malik was laughing, because he was sure the old man was red enough to be mistaken for a radish.
“KATSUYAAAA!!” he raged.
“Baiii baiii!” was Jonouchi's only answer to Yamato.