Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ At First Glance ❯ Avoiding the Unavoidable ( Chapter 1 )

At First Glance

By PageTurn

 

Rating: T for language and sexual situations

Summary: His family was corporate America. His name was known around the world. But who he wanted didn't even know he existed. When he sees him at his brother's side, what will he do? Y/Y, R/B, M/M, S/Y among others.

Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form affiliated with the creators or owners of Yu-Gi-Oh, nor do I have the permission to use their characters.

 

Chapter One - Avoiding the Unavoidable

 

 

 

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People were everywhere.

 

 

Reunions were pointless. Family reunions were pointless and bothersome. If somebody wanted a scheduled time to see you, they'd make an appointment. That's all family gatherings were really. They were meetings that took place at an appointed time, at an appointed place, and for an appointed length. If family wanted to see you, they'd drop in unannounced. They'd spontaneously take you for coffee or offer you ice cream on the weekend. Having a bunch of people you hadn't spoken to all year show up at once for a measly gathering wasn't bonding; it was obligation. Routine brought people together and routine tore them apart. Have cake, smile at mom, throw a Frisbee, and go home. That's what family did.

 

 

And he couldn't wait for it to be over.

 

 

“Sweetie, it's so good to have you home.” He turned around to see his mother behind him, her arms outstretched in an offering hug, much like she did when he was a boy. He quickly said goodbye to his subordinate and flipped his phone shut. He smiled at her warmly and bent down slightly to receive the hearty embrace. She smelled as she always had, like vanilla and a summer garden. This he did miss.

 

 

His mother was in her fifties, but alive with the vitality of a woman half her age. Small laugh lines proved that the woman walked around with a constant smile, even if no one was watching. Her hair was graying nicely and her eyes were glistening in all the excitement.

 

 

His mother adored gatherings, meetings, or parties of any kind, especially if she could plan them. His middle sister's wedding had been enormous and extravagant, so much so that if he were a writer, he would have written a fairytale worthy Aesop's. His mother glowed the whole two months is took to plan it.

 

 

Right now, the mansion was a bustle of activity. Florist appeared and disappeared through the parlor, unloading a vast array of plant life from vans parked in the front of the house to the large yard behind it. Their fragrances were powerful albeit refreshing, as was seeing his mother face again after so many months.

 

 

He pulled away from her and laughed. “Is all this really necessary, Mom?” He gave her a toothy grin as he gestured largely with his right hand, his left still around her waist.

 

“Of course it is, you brat. Now do some real work for a change.” She laughed and handed him a potted flower of some kind that lay waiting to be moved down to the pavilion. He `offed!' slightly with his weight and put his cell in his pocket to have better use with both hands.

 

 

“Follow me and we'll talk.” He flashed another devastating smile and followed his mother from the large French door of the entry way, across the smooth marble floors, and out the main exit to the presently-being-constructed arena below.

 

 

He felt much better once he reached the open air. Despite all the open windows and doors, inside was so cluttered with butlers, cooks, and decorators that he was finding it hard to breath. A smooth summer breeze ruffled through his wild hair, making his blonde bangs floating about his face and his black roots stir. It was beautiful outside. The sun was up and blaring its glory and the scent of freshly cut grass brought back fond memories of his childhood. This reunion, despite all the negative connotation that followed that word in his mind, would at least fall on a rather beautiful weekend.

 

 

They neared the area where seating was being prepared, making idle chitchat. Tables and chairs had been brought down and were grouped neatly off to the side. His mother sauntered off to talk with a man and woman standing near them, he gesturing and pointing in several directions while she voiced approval or not. He could tell that they were trying to decide the perfect array in which to set up, and his mother left to merely `voice her opinion,' as she put it, but he knew it was to dictate exactly what was on her mind. He'd hate to have to work for his mother when she got in the party mood, no matter how much he loved her.

 

 

He placed the plant on one of the tables and dusted off his white blazer. He pulled out his phone and dialed his secretary. She answered professionally and he mentally read off a list of things that had to get done while he was away. He hated to make her work so hard, but he hated to miss work as well, especially with a submission deadline this close. They'd have to be prepared for Milan in less than 6 weeks, and there was still much to be done.

 

 

“Don't worry, Luanne. I'll be out of here as soon as I can, believe me…I know, but I hate these things…” He paused while she murmured some comments back. “Family is overrated…No, I haven't tried to throw her in the river…Civil? Have you ever met the guy?” She continued to reprimand him, warning him to obey his mother and not ignore his siblings like he did last year.

 

 

If only she knew…

 

“Yami, child! I told you, no working, not for the next two weeks!” His mother was back. She reached up, took the phone from his hand and in the blink of an eye, muttered, “I'm sorry dear, he'll have to call you back,” before promptly closing the phone and tossing it over her shoulder. Yami watched helplessly as it sailed through the air and landing with a dull thump on the ground. A good tempered-looking man laughed richly as he bent down and retrieved the cell.

 

 

“He's a grown man, Tanya, and you're still taking away his toys.” Yami's mother scoffed lightly before reaching up to give the man a light kiss.

 

 

“I'll do the same for you if you don't keep out of my way,” Tanya said good-naturedly. “I let you two catch up for a moment, but don't plan an escape like you did last year.” She eyed them wearily but with a crooked smile, and walked off to look at linen colors.

 

 

“She's on to us, son,” he said, leaning down slightly to Yami's level but keeping his face toward his wife, who turned around and raised a fist into their air, waiving it threateningly. Yami smiled. His parents love for each other was as strong as the day they had met.

 

 

“Hey, Pops.” Yami shook hand with James Dawson, before embracing the man. James was much taller that he, which wasn't difficult considering Yami inherited his mother's small size. His father was broad shouldered and imposing, but inside as soft as a teddy bear. Save for his stature, Yami was his father. They had the same dishwater-red hair and stunning wine colored eyes, and the same business finesse that the Dawson family claimed as their own, although it was much more apparent in his older brother, the eldest of the Circus, as his father liked to call it.

 

 

Tanya and James had five children together, two girls and three boys. There was a wide age gap between the last and the first, but the family was well-rounded and loving.

 

 

James put an arm around his son's shoulders and the two walked back up to the monstrous house, intent on sharing coffee and conversation. Once on the balcony of the second floor, the two talked of daily life and business, while cracking jokes about Yami's mother as she scurried about in the vast backyard, no doubt playing the gentle dictator he knew her to be at times. God, how he had missed this.

 

 

Yami was just going into detail about his new fall line when a very bubbly, very familiar voice called out to him.

 

 

“Reach for the sky! I want your women and your money, and don't make me angry `cause I'm takin' no prisoners.” Yami reeled around and laughed when he saw his youngest brother standing before him, decked out in his tennis gear with both hands into the customary forefinger-and-thumb salute of a handgun.

 

 

“But, sah!” Yami cried in a falsetto voice. “We've no mona ta' give. All the cows done dead an' all the crops is failed!” Mokuba grinned as he dropped his façade and ran to give his older brother a large bear hug. Yami stepped back slightly with the force of his twelve-year-old brother slamming into him.

 

 

“Practice, or a game?” he said, tugging slightly on the white tunic in front of him.

 

 

“Oh, I'm preparing for the semi-finals. Thank God they're next weekend. I can get away from this stupid reunion for at least 4 hours,” he huffed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

 

 

Yami pulled away from him and gripped him on the shoulders. “Mokuba,” he said quite seriously, “do you still need ball boys? `Cause you know I look damn good in those shorts.”

 

 

Mokuba laughed. “Sorry, bro. You have to be here all the time. All day, every minute, for all the speeches and every dance, having so much fun with random strangers and looking stuffy and…”

 

 

“Shut it, kid. You're treading on dangerous ground.” Yami gave him an incredulous look that said you little twat, good for you and ruffled his mop of black hair. Mokuba just gave a haughty grin and sat down in an open chair. He reached for a scone and munched it while talking to his father about practice.

 

 

“That's right, mate. You're mother's pulled in the Calvary this year.” A grin exploded on his face as his eyes followed the heavily accented voice to the balcony door. Leaning casually against the frame was none other that Ryou Lin, a dear friend he had made while studying art history at Oxford. Ryou and Yami embraced and Ryou shook hands with James and ruffled Mokuba's hair as well.

 

 

Ryou was slender and delicately poised. His long white hair framed a kind face and sweet chocolate eyes. Yami had befriended him quickly, as did the rest of his family. Ryou was one hell of a marketer, and had done very well with some of his father's projects. He was a damn fine pianist as well, and fact his mother took great pleasure in anytime he came to visit.

 

 

Yami clapped a hand on his shoulder and led him off the veranda intent on having a nice long conversation on the bridge overlooking a large creek on their property. It was wonderfully being able to see old friends again.

 

 

 

◦◦◦â&# 8212;¦â—¦â—‹â—¦â —¦â—¦â—¦â—¦

 

 

 

“So she forced you onto a plane and brought you here?”

 

 

Ryou and Yami had spent the last several hours together, laughing, smiling, and enjoying each other's company. It had been far too long and there was much to talk about.

 

 

“Pretty much. She didn't want a repeat of last year. Apparently, she wants me to keep you in my sight at all times. Said that you'd wonder off if not nannied. I believe her. At school, something awful always happed when Yami Dawson was alone.”

 

 

Yami scoffed at him. “That is not true! I'm a grown man; I can make grown decisions. I don't need a nanny.”

 

 

“Quite the contrary. Do you remember sophomore year? You pretended to be pre-med and snuck into Clousky's lab, stole a fake intestine, put it in Dana Stowe's bed, and ran around yelling that she was pregnant and that the devil was trying to steal her placenta? Or, same year, you dressed like Paul Bunion and raved how your ox was bigger than any other chaps'? You Americans; you're spontaneity will be the end of you, you know.”

 

 

“Aw, pranks. Nothing too serious. Loosen up, Ry.”

 

 

Ryou continued as though he hadn't heard. “Senior year, you told the freshmen that if they offered to shag Dean Standers he'd give them half-tuition. He hunted the culprit, you, for months. You convinced the track team to run naked, just like the Greeks, you said. You told Professor Bale that you had chronic inflangitistism syndrome disease, which meant you could drop dead at the slightest emotional upset. You told her you killed the neighbor's kittens with turpentine when you were three, that your father never loved you, and that you were so afraid to graduate a virgin that you could have a panic attack `right now!' How she decided to bang you, I'll never know-”

 

 

“You have absolutely no proof of that!”

 

 

“Yami, you were so drunk that you practically called us during the act.”

 

 

A thoughtful look appeared on Yami's face, before a cheeky grin and haughty eyes replaced it. I shook his shoulders and straightened his back with pride.

 

 

“Point taken. One of my better accomplishments, if you ask me.”

 

 

Ryou stared at him incredulously. “Chronic inflangitistism syndrome disease, Yami?”

 

 

Yami just shrugged one shoulder and winked.

 

 

“Oh! I almost forgot! My personal favorite. First day of school, junior year. We were on tourism duty. When we passed by the science wing, you told our group that they were starting human testing because something was killing off all the rats in all sorts of gruesome ways, none I'd like to repeat. You told them they were hiding the disease in solid form in the cafeteria food and warned them to tell all their friends never to eat anything that came out of the buildings. Scared them half to death. Oh, and then two weeks later you, Javier, Sam, and Donny chased them around in hazmat suits, spraying them with sugar water saying it was the killer bug?”

 

 

“Again, there was no proof that I was ever any part of that. I was studying for finals that day.” They both knew the argument was half-fun.

 

 

Ryou raised an eyebrow. “On the first bloody day of school?”

 

 

“Of course. I wanted a leg-up. Besides, only an extremely sexy genius could've thought that one up.”

 

 

“Of course.” Ryou was smiling good-naturedly. It had been far too long.

 

“I suppose I can see my mother's point. Spiking Aunt May's punch this year would be so much more fun than last time, considering now she's a repressed divorcee with wonderful stories about Uncle Herbert. Shame, I could've learned so much. And besides, I won't repeat last year. I'll be there the whole time, courteous and charming, like always, I can assure you.”

 

 

I can guarantee you.

 

Ryou seemed pleased. “What happened last time anyway?”

 

 

Yami didn't meet his eyes. “Nothing of importance. How's Bakura?”

 

 

He left no room between sentences, no room for continuation of the previous subject. Ryou knew not to press, and the new topic was one he enjoyed conversing about. He glanced at the other's ruby-colored eyes, absolute euphoria dancing in his own. “Testy, as always, but I've never been as happy as I am now. He's coming, you know? He flies in on Friday.”

 

 

Yami couldn't help but be jealous of Ryou's contended smile and the warmth in his eyes. It was hard to see the two of them matched, but love can be fickle at times. Bakura was also a close friend of Yami's, but he hadn't known him as long as he had Ryou.

 

 

Bakura Wayton was a professional football player for England. Yami first met him when he was an up-and-coming star. Yami had a gift for seeing future investments, a trait he picked up from his father. When Bakura's talent had taken the world by storm, Yami had already had him agree to an endorsement contract six months earlier. They hit it off right away. Bakura respected Yami for his sarcasm and general dislike for higher society, even though he himself was a part of it. Yami loved Bakura's wit and quick temper, as well as his desire for control. It helped to be able to speak to the man and not the manager, in Yami's mind. Since their first shoot, the contract had been lengthened and stretched until it was merely for tradition and legality than anything else. They were programmed into each other's speed dial, and Bakura made it a top priority to be there when needed. He modeled Yami's new fashions, and Yami gave him his much loved attention.

 

 

Their most recent meeting had taken place a little over eight months ago. Fate, Yami's label, had come out with a new pair of athletic trainers that Bakura was going to model, and Yami had hired Ryou for their campaign. Ryou was there to help make the poses aesthetically pleasing for their advertising market, and the two hit it right off. It was rather amusing to watch, actually. Fate had brought them together.

 

When Bakura went public with their relationship, the people's reaction was wild, but surprising. Bakura had been known for his bisexuality, and everyone loved him for it. They loved him for everything (or everyone) that he did. Bakura's brashness was famous, as was his temper. His mad skill on the field did wonders for his reputation as well. Out there, he, the goal, and that little black-and-white ball were the only things that existed. He referred to the opposing net as `…the most beautiful woman in the world,' and the ball as `…the luckiest bastard in all England; when I'm playing, he gets an all day shag-a-thon.' Of course, certain words had been replaced, as Bakura had an affinity for swearing, especially to cameramen and reporters.

 

 

The public's reaction to Ryou was what was surprising. They adored him and his talent, and voiced their approval of his union with their country's bad boy. Of course, the single female population cried for a while, sorry to lose the built, dark, and mysterious Brit they had come to adore. He was handsome, definitely. He sprouted a wild crop of silver hair similar to Ryou's that he kept tied back during his games and sharp, smoldering bed-room mahogany eyes. He was lithe and in peak shape, a fact that kept Ryou blushing. Named Cutest New Couple by several UK mags, Ryou and Bakura rode out the embarrassing (on Ryou's part; Bakura rolled in it) popularity, and were now living the comfortable, fairy tale love life that Ryou had so desperately craved.

 

 

“Careful, you're becoming a sap.” Ryou chuckled and thwapped Yami on the shoulder.

 

 

“So? It's my process, leave off bothering me.” He faked a hurt expression, but the little smile present on his face made it crack.

 

 

For a little while longer Ryou and Yami continued to discuss Ryou's relationship, Ryou telling cute little stories about Bakura that Bakura sure wouldn't allow Ryou to bring up had he known. Yami found himself laughing almost constantly at the bouts of un-Bakuraesque moments that Ryou had taken mental pictures of. Oh, Bakura would destroy Ryou when he tattled later.

 

 

He was asking for juicy details again, chortling as Ryou's blush got deeper with each demand, and Ryou was again refusing, when Yami heard his mother calling for them, her voice faint because of the distance between them; the creek was almost out of viewing distance from the mansion. He checked his Rolex. Time for dinner.

 

 

Ryou and Yami stood and stretched sore muscles before make the long trek back up to house, Yami making Ryou blush more and more each minute.

 

 

 

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Dinner was served outside that evening. The late afternoon sun was warm and comforting, and the birds were still out singing soothing songs to one another.

 

 

Violet, Yami's youngest sister and the family's second child, had arrived sometime during his visit with Ryou. She looked utterly ravishing in her yellow springtime dress and loose blonde hair, the color of her mother's. She and Mokuba both had their grandmother's large grey eyes. Francesca Rivera was a beautiful famous dancer who gave up her passion when her daughter Tanya was born. She often said that Tanya was `the greatest waltz,' and in order to learn it, she had to give up all other endeavors and devote all of her time to it. `Unfortunately,' she'd say in her thick Italian accent, `it's 50 years later and I still haven't gotten it right.'

 

 

He looked forward to seeing Grandmamma again.

 

 

Violet and he were sitting side by side, she on his right and Ryou on his left, discussing her current affairs. She was dating a nice young man in Philly. A writer, she said. His family owned several large bookstores across the sate. Her studies were very promising; her internship was over and in less than two years she would be offered a position at John Hopkins Children's Center, specializing in child cancer. She was also looking forward to a family of her own in the near future, a statement that caused his father's head to jerk suddenly in her direction.

 

 

“My hearing better be fading. Either that, or I just had a stroke,” he said with a critical eye poised on Violet.

 

 

“Oh Papa. I said I was merely thinking about it, not starting one. Besides, I'm twenty-two now, and Jacob and I have talked about it-”

 

 

“Correction,” James interrupted, “now I've just had a stroke. Between you, your sister's fourth pregnancy, and Yami's lack-there-of, I'm surprised I'm still alive at all.”

 

 

Violet ignored Yami's loud `Hey!' and turned to her father. “I can take care of myself, Papa. I'm responsible and I don't need a babysitter unlike Yami.”

 

Ryou snorted water back into his glass and Mokuba clutched his sides in laughter. Yami, however, was far from amused.

 

 

“What is this? I haven't been home in months, Mom calls in Ryou to keep an eye on me, no one seems to think that I'll behave on my own, and my father wants me to have a baby. I'll get right on that last one, and then I'll grow a womb and start lactating.” He slouched in his chair and glared into his water glass.

 

 

James glanced at his son with a sympathetic expression. “I just want to see you comfortable with someone. You haven't had a relationship that lasted more than a month in over a year. I just want to see you happy.”

 

 

His mother seemed to want a piece of him as well. “Yes, what happened? That one you dated last year….David, was it? He seemed very nice.”

 

 

“It was a mutual separation.” He hated this conversation.

 

 

“Or what about that nice girl you were with for so long? You both seemed so happy together.”

 

 

Yami sighed and rested his elbows on the table. “Téa, Mom.” He might of a well indulge her. “She said she couldn't keep waiting for me, and I let her go. We still have coffee twice a month. She's getting married next month, and you're all invited.”

 

 

His mother seemed crestfallen. “Tristen's a great guy, Mom. You'd like him. We go the Mets game together when they're in town.” Tristen Taylor had inherited Taylor Publishing & Co. after his father died five years before. He was doing extremely well for himself, and the location of the Taylor building was only thirty minutes away from the facility Téa was currently rehearsing at. Already a member of the New York City Ballet, she was showing great promise for opera and theatre.

 

 

“I'm going to be his best man. I know you aren't, but I'm quite happy for them.”

 

 

“Honey, I'm thrilled, you know that. I just liked her for you, that's all.” She smiled at him and ended the conversation.

 

The meal continued with little disruption for another half hour. Ryou had just started having a conversation with James about some of his rookies' campaigns, when a maid quietly interrupted.

 

 

“Mrs. Dawson? There's a call for you.”

 

 

“Really? At this hour? Thank you, Jane.” She excused herself and Violet and the men contented themselves with some after-dinner wine. Tanya returned fifteen minutes later.

 

 

“That was Seto!” She seemed delighted. “He'll be here on Thursday.” Her body gave an excited shudder. Seto was the eldest child and most work-driven of the five. It was amazing his heart continued to beat, what with all the caffeine he must've consumed in order to keep his 19-hour, 7-days-a-week shift. Kaiba Corporation, modeled after his middle name that he consequently shared with his grandfather, Kabia Louis Dawson, James' father with whom Seto was very close, was fast becoming America's premiere business in gaming. Seto's incredible technical genius and business finesse had taken him from nothing to nearly number one in under ten years. Kaiba Corp produced more top-sellers than it's following four competitors combined, and was creating new platforms daily. Always one step ahead, Seto Kaiba Dawson was a force to be feared.

 

 

Yami took little notice of his mother. Although he respected Seto, he certainly wasn't excited to see him. He loved his brother and they often got along, but now…Now, the jealousy that welled inside Yami was too much for him to ignore. He turned back to his father and continued in the discussion with Ryou.

 

 

“Oh! And he's bringing that nice young man he's been telling us so much about.” Her grin spread to her ears and she clasped her hand in excitement.

 

 

Yami felt his heart jump to his throat.

 

 

He head whipped to hers so fast it could have flown from his shoulders.

 

 

“Yuugi? He's bringing Yuugi?”

 

 

“Yes! Won't that be great? I've got a feeling about this one.” She tapped her nose in an I-know-what-I'm-talking-about manner.

 

 

Yami's heart beat in his chest so hard he though it might crash into his ribs. He stared at his hands, his mind furiously trying to form some sort of conclusion. Yuugi was coming. Yuugi was going to be here. I'm going to be here. We'll both be here. Yuugi was coming.

 

 

Family reunions hurt. They brought memories and pain and realization.

 

 

Yuugi was coming.

 

 

Funny thing was, Yuugi had only been introduced to Yami briefly. He had no idea about Yami's torment.

 

 

We'll both be here.

 

 

He had to get away. He couldn't see him again, not with Seto.

 

 

Yuugi was coming

 

 

 

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Well, not a very exciting come-back start, but it's something I'd like to work on. Just straight romance for this one, but I must admit that I've had little planning on it. I barely had the first chapter blocked out, and I wanted Yuugi's name to appear about page 5, but well, I ended up with a 12 page document, so…

 

Note 1: Important! I've a new name. I was previously Twilight Dreams, but fanfiction.net didn't like her. So I'm tying again. I hope PageTurn is liked as much.

 

Note 2: Most of this story is fairytale fiction. Everyone's happy, healthy, and successful. I suppose it's not a very realistic fic, but I tried. I worked really hard inserting useless names, companies, and backgrounds hoping to simulate the tangled weave of real life. I guess things just got lost in the wood workings.

 

Note 3: If all the names, posisitons, and histories become to much, then I'll do a little note sheet and a family tree. Just tell me if you need it, and I'll get to it as soon as I can.

 

Note 4: I have several new stories I want to write, one with 5 pages of notes, another with half a first chapter, and a few little plot bunnies floating around. I also need to get back to work on Love's Slave.

 

Note 5: I'm thinking of a Beta. Anyone interested?

 

Please tell me what you think. It took me a while to pump out this first chapter. Also, if anyone likes this enough (though I doubt it) and want to know about updates but don't want anymore Author Alerts, you're welcome to join my yahoogroup, where I post updates as well as fanart possibly in the future. See my main page for the site.

 

 

Next PageTurn: More on Yami's obsession, Malik Ishtar appears, preparations, and a flashback of Ryou and Bakura's first meeting. There'll be more, but I'm not sure what. ^_^

 

 

 

 

 

PEACE,

 

PageTurn