Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ HOUNDS ❯ Old Flames ( Chapter 12 )

~

HOUNDS. Old Flames.

~By Sweetdeily.

“Don’t worry about being the best at what you do. Worry about knowing the people better than you so you have a clear image of who needs to die so that you’re the best option left.
~Unknown.”

~
The flowers came on Monday. They were daffodils, his favorite, a whole dozen of the long-stemmed variety in a cute little bouquette with blue ribbons curling around the bottom. When the nurse came in holding the flowers, Jounouchi had perked up immediately. It reminded him of his high-school days and his illicit romance with his first boyfriend; Malik had always sent him flowers.

His first inclination was that the sender was Yami- or even maybe Seto, but the simple white card that came with the flowers wasn’t signed. There was only one word printed, in scribbled, quick handwriting. “Sorry”. When asked the two alphas had admitted they hadn’t even thought about sending him flowers- or that daffodils were his favorites.

The nurse didn’t know who they were from- a florist delivery boy had dropped them off and she didn’t know which florist he’d come from since it hadn’t seemed important. Dead end chase.

By Tuesday he was ready to leave the hospital, but the guards and the doctors wouldn’t let him. He had a few scratches left and the quaint little hives all over his body from the reaction to the silver in his system hadn’t died down. Until he looked as good as he felt, he was still under bed-arrest. Which was fine if you liked cricket and old, bad, soap operas. Jounouchi did not like either of those things- nor was he a fan of the smell of the hospital let alone what passed as ‘food’ for the patients. Jello, ice-cream, and over steamed vegetables.

Most of the bandages were gone; his face was finally back to normal and the bullet wound had a Band-Aid over it now. His recovery had been pretty quick- who knew bed rest was actually good for the body? He decided to try it some time later.

Wednesday morning had him gloomily staring out the small crack in the blinds- it was raining outside and the side of the building that was visible to him reminded him of the thin stretch of sand on a beach, the part that’s always wet yet not soft. The guard on the door, Ryan or Jake or something like that- whoever it was, he wasn’t on speaking terms with- was reading a book that looked almost as boring as the cricket on the television. Then again, in Jounouchi’s expert opinion, it didn’t get much worse than cricket. He was a football fan.

The door opened and Jounouchi rolled over, anxious to greet whoever it might be. The first person to walk through the entry way was a doctor, pushing his glasses up so he could get a better look at the Therianthrope in the bed. The second was Seto Kaiba, dressed in the black of his HOUNDS uniform. He reminded Jounouchi of an assassin when he was dressed like that; all sleek and muscled, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting woman and send her sweetly to heaven. Someone had been watching too much television.

“How are we feeling today Mr. Katsuya?” The doctor pronounced his name wrong; he spelled it out, rather than separate the sounds. His voice had an accent to it, like he was from a different part of the country. His eyes were small and dull behind his glasses; they were clouding over with cataracts already even though the man couldn’t have been past his forties. He was of a large build, and had a sort of harassed look about him- like he’d been on call all night. The only interesting thing about him was the sneakers he wore. They looked new.

“The same as yesterday and the day before- I’m fine. I’d like to go home.” Jounouchi almost said more, but he bit his tongue when he glanced at Seto. He didn’t want to look like a smart ass in front of Kaiba. Well he did, just not the bad kind. Sort of. Mostly he wanted to get out of the hospital- he was willing to sweet talk a grizzly if he could get away from the television with nothing on.

“Well, if you check up alright today we’ll send you on your way.” The doctor smiled, in that slightly condescending way that doctors smile sometimes, and began to check the monitors and tubes running into Jounouchi’s body.

“I’ll be driving you home, Jounouchi.” Seto’s voice broke Jounouchi’s attention away from the doctor and the blonde nodded.

“Thank you. You don’t have to. I’ll be fine to catch a bus.”

“Someone tried to kill you at that party, Jounouchi.” Jounouchi’s name was pronounced like one would say a child’s name when they were misbehaving, “now, Timmy…”

“A lot of people tried to kill a lot of other people at that party.” Jounouchi countered. He didn’t particularly need or want his own guard troop following him around. Although he wasn’t specifically objecting to riding in the Porsche.

“Which is why you escaping is such a problem- if the attackers think you know something…” Seto was leaning against the doorframe, frowning at the blonde as though he were indeed a father figure. Jounouchi only wished he were a child-molesting father figure and the image would be perfect. Then again, Jounouchi was a little old to be child-molested. Still it was the thought of Seto Kaiba molesting Jounouchi Katsuya that mattered.

Jounouchi shifted under the blankets, enjoying the attention despite himself. What Seto said made sense- if someone were trying to kill him… the thought reminded him of the Claws and all playful images faded.

If the Claws were after him he would already be dead, right? But… what if they weren’t assassins so much as a gang? Would they wait until he was no longer surrounded by members of HOUNDS? Would they risk attacking him when he was with the authorities? How did the mysterious flower sender fit in with it all? Was it a code for someone putting a hit out on him? An assassin’s tag?

“I know what you’re saying- it’s just a nuisance. I have stuff I can’t do with uniforms around.”

Seto’s eyes narrowed.

Jounouchi held up his hands in defense. “Not that kind of stuff- just people don’t talk to you if they see uniforms around. They figure you for a snitch.”

“You are a snitch.” Seto informed Jounouchi, still in his parental voice.

“I know- but if you want me to be a good one, I can’t be seen with HOUNDS too often.”

“You’re under protection and that’s final.” Seto crossed his arms and frowned down at the blonde with all the weight of his alpha male personality.

Jounouchi stopped the growl in his chest from rising and just glared at the other man, ignoring the pain as the last two needles were ripped out of his left hand by the less than gentle doctor. He wasn’t a child. Okay, okay, he was behaving like one, but that didn’t make him a kid.

“Fine.” He mumbled, turning his head away from Seto’s so the alpha would know that the blonde wasn’t happy.

“And you won’t be going back to your apartment.” This was added as an almost afterthought.

“What! Why not?” Jounouchi’s attempt to look in the opposite direction reversed itself and he was glaring straight at the brunette, daring Seto to say what was coming next.

“It’s not safe.”

“From who?” Jounouchi twitched as his blood-pressure was taken.

“Everyone.” Seto shifted as he spoke, smelling of a lie.

Jounouchi growled, low and demanding. Seto growled back and the noise quelled the blonde’s objection.

“Fine, then, where am I staying?”

“My house.”

Jounouchi opened his mouth to object and then stopped. Seto Kaiba’s… a dozen different fantasies assaulted the blonde’s brain all at once and he shifted, suddenly happy-in more than physical ways- again. “Okay.”

The doctor finished fairly quickly and declared that yes, Jounouchi was well enough to leave. He was given some medication for his allergies and his clothing that Yami had brought over a day or so ago was donned. The minute that he and Seto were out of the sliding doors the blonde turned to the brunette. “Can we eat? I’m starving.”

It was hard to hold a grudge when you’d been promised a ride in the Porsche and a chance to stay in a mansion.

“Didn’t you eat breakfast?”

“I did- but it was like eating solid water- and if they think that porridge can be ingested without honey then they’re sadly mistaken.” Jounouchi brought the tag on his wrist to his mouth as he pulled at it in an attempt to break it. The doctors had forgotten to take it off.

Seto rolled his eyes but nodded. “I suppose you’d like fast food?”

“Well drive-through would be nice.”

“We’re not eating in my car.” Seto’s voice lowered to the growl of a man with an expensive car and leather seats.

Jounouchi shrugged.

~

It was raining. Cold, wet, damp. The kind of rain that just seemed to suck your soul right out of your body- while you watched helpless to do anything. It makes you restless, that kind of rain. Not sure why. It might be the way that the droplets collect around the edges of the windows- reminding most people of busy little ants. Or that seemed to be the general impression of those tiny, brainless globes of liquid that almost raced to an eventual disablement inside a larger entity.

Jounouchi was bored. It was the kind of boredom that a creature like himself was not used to, the urges- the primal ones, to fight, to run, to howl- had always been freed quickly and readily in the past. He had never noticed how much he craved the fights until now. Three days without anything. No, more, a week- possibly closer to two weeks without adrenaline. Nothing. Just the stupid window and the stupid house.

The appeal of living in a mansion had worn off. He should have known it eventually would. Not to mention the excruciation of being just two rooms away from the sexy alpha male protecting him.

However, Seto was not at home.

There was the lattice work, just under the window, the yard, maybe a maid or a gardener, the walls… then…

Freedom. He could almost taste the word on his lips- like a long forgotten fruit to a sailor stuck out at sea for millennia of agony with wind-chap.

The window opened invitingly under his hands and he felt a surge of bestial power rush through him- excitement. The creatures inside his mind frolicked and zestfully bounced to the sweet tune of the fight. Soon. Very soon. He could feel it, stronger, more dominating now, like a light bulb in his brain was ready to be turned on- if only he would flick the switch. What color would his fur be? What would the world smell like? Would his claws be long enough to shred the opponent?

He was an addict in more ways than one. An addict who simply refused to acknowledge his habit. The need for the fight was strong. Too strong for his will to resist. What was it that made the cage so addictive for the blonde? More than likely it was the attention. That bitter, nail-biting attention. Where for just a few minutes, a few seconds, every eye is on you, analyzing, criticizing, evaluating. It was like the whole world around just stopped. For a moment, just one moment, to see what happened. And if you won… applause. Applause enough to shake your body, to thunder over your head- to make your heart burst.

He was already on the ground- a second storey jump and it had felt like nothing. It had felt like flying through the air. His knees were hairy, his eyes wild, wide and barely human. He was running. The rain was cold and heavy, it drizzled right through his shirt in moments- then he was cold. But it didn’t bother him. The smells of the garden- the grass, the fertilizer, the flowers, they reminded him that this was the outside world. This was nature. A part of him. He was running on all fours.

Control it. There was nothing that could control nature- the best you could do was kill it- make it unable to grow in a certain direction- but not control, no. nature could find a way. The Beast could find a way.

Like sinking into a warm bubble-bath, the fur rushed over his body, up his arms- bones liquefied, changed, rearranged.

“Does it hurt?” humans always ask that question. They can’t help it. They have nothing like it to compare with. Does it hurt? In a word, no. But it hurts- it hurts when you realize you’re behaving stupidly- acting like an animal. It hurts your aesthetics- your sense of human ‘self’. But the rush- the flying of fur over body, the sudden flood of alien senses, the impeccable balance, the teeth that grip so much better- that itself doesn’t hurt. No, it feels good. It feels really, really good.

The wall, which might have given him trouble, does not. He moves like a dancer, a pause, a step, a twist back to the half-way form, jump.

What wall was that now? Oh yes, the one behind him?

His body knows the way, even if his mind does not- he follows the scents- a whole city away, and he follows the scents. The dog could never have done that. But it’s like the near-death experience has woken something up, something he used to try and keep hidden. Something that is so much smarter so much…

Control. He catches it, finally, the edges of his senses. He knows, can feel it- he can control. Stop. Sit. Stand. Go. Yes, his desires- not animal ones, no. Ignore the smell of bitches in heat. Ignore them for something better. More fulfilling. Is this what it feels like when you can control it, when you can think in animal form? This strange, dreamlike feeling? Stop at the traffic light. Look both ways. The humans can tell- real wolves aren’t conscious about jay-walking. But he is real. He is the Beast. A part of nature.

The smell is so strong now- how far has he come? It seems almost evening now; his body emerges from under all that fur. His shorts are still on- the zipper is broken, but they are still on. Not a good fashion statement- but at least he’s not naked.

His eyes close and he shakes, his whole body shakes, head to foot. He’s ready. Anxious. Needy. It’s time to begin. He can barely keep the animal parts of himself at bay.

“Joey! Long time no see, you look seriously tripping.” The door man greets him.

“I’m excited.” He leans against the glass, russet eyes gazing at the night’s schedule.

“You just missed the major prizes. You can enter one of the free tournaments- but they’re only a couple’a hundred in cash.”

“I’ll take them. I left my wallet at home anyway.”

“I’ll say- did you run over here or something? I’ve never seen you this undressed. Don’t you usually wear shoes?” It wasn’t that unusual a question- not all the shifters who frequented the cage were domesticated. Some wore pants only in human public circles because they didn’t want to be arrested. Some didn’t change back into human form. Normally Joey wore more clothing. Normally.

Joey shrugged. “Yeah. How long till the next match?”

“Ten minutes. Go in round the back.”

Joey nodded and followed the building around to the back, also known as the ‘fighter’s’ entrance. It was supposed to create a feeling of ‘atmosphere’ if the fighters weren’t seen until their fights. What it really meant was that eye-witnesses couldn’t count the amount of people in the establishment properly. If someone went missing, it was less traceable.

The fights were usually less vicious in the free entries. Less to win, less to fight for. That simple. Most were already tired, or weak. The crowd, however, was doubled. Audience members with jobs were finally off for the night, father’s and mothers with families had sent the kids to bed. Night time was the adult’s arena.

He waited thirty minutes, alone in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the crowd, body shivering back and forth between the half-way form and his human one. The energy in the air was hot and heavy- making it seem as though every breath he took was an effort. There were only two fighters in front of him, but one of the fights had gone sour and they had to clean the ring quickly before continuing.

Joey stepped out into area, and it was like tearing his way through a solid barrier. A barricade of noise and sound washed over him, stripping him naked briefly with power and force of will. He bathed in it, let the sound smack him like something physical, embraced the burning ache in his limbs for the rush of adrenaline.

His opponent smelt like crack; scraggly brown hair greasy and splattered in what looked like vomit but was more likely to be blood. It was a fifty dollar fight. No entry fee, no Christmas hamper, just a single note at the end of the day. Looking into those slightly disorientated eyes, Joey knew it wasn’t worth it. Not really. But he needed to do it.

The cage closed behind him, trapping him, sealing him in with the other shapeshifter. The bell screamed at them, and the larger, hairier lycanthrope rushed Joey the Cat’s.

He didn’t even think about the movement, he moved with a liquid grace that was all instinct. His knees dropped under him and Joey rolled to the side, he came up on clawed hands, face twisting in a snarl. There was no mental battle, not in this kind of fight. It was quick, it was cheap, and it was nasty.

The blonde rose, claws slashing out wildly, shredding the other’s face with a lucky hit. If he had of been using his normal claws he wouldn’t have caused nearly as much damage, but as it was, Joey was surprised when the fight was suddenly over. The other man backed away, holding his face and whining in pain, his eyes were slashed; he was blinded.

Joey moved to continue, to fight on, but the brunette had given up. He held out his hands in submission and backed into his side of the cage, cradling his features.

The cut was deep, deeper than the blonde had been expecting. Blood was already seeping through the other’s hands, it mingled with sweat and tears, running down the lycanthrope’s arm in thick rivers.

The announcer held Joey’s arm up and the crowd cheered. He was pulled from the arena and someone shoved the fifty into his still clawed hands. Joey stood there for a while, pocketing the money out of force of habit alone. He’d never been in such a quick fight. Sure, he’d seen plenty of fights that ended in two quick strikes but… he hadn’t even been aiming for the other guy’s face, it was usually bad form to rip another person’s nose off.
The adrenaline hadn’t even been given a chance to honestly start pumping through his system yet.

He stood in the partial dimness of the side corridor, looking down at his hands like it was all their fault he’d lost the chance at the rush. Now he’d have to wait around for ages for the next fight to start.

“Oh wow! That was amazing man! One hit win! Damn!” Someone had their arm around his shoulders, rocking him back and forth like a rag-doll. The guy looked barely past his early twenties, short, brown hair, blue eyes and a little bit of rough stubble, he had large hands, one of which was across Joey’s back, the other held a beer can. He was dressed in the an orange shirt with white writing, his pants were jump-suit bottoms, white and baggy.

“Yeah! Totally awesome!” Another man, this one looking about his mid thirties, with blonde hair gelled behind his head. He smelt like a human, and he had a beer in one hand, his other was out of sight. His eyes were dark, probably brown although it was hard to tell in the light. He was wearing a green shirt and black jeans; they were well-worn, but also well cared for, like they got cleaned often.

The two men began walking, dragging the startled blonde with them and oozing on about how unusual it was to see such a quick fight. Joey wasn’t sure who they were, he didn’t know them, but they were pretty friendly.

“Damn! Last fight I saw that quick, the winner was in full wolf-form. Shit man! You wiped the floor with that shit!”

“Thanks, man.” Joey responded to the blonde.

“Hey, wanna beer? We’ve got heaps!” The brunette offered, even as they steered him toward the back entrance.

Joey shifted against the hand around his shoulder, glancing irritably back toward the ring. “Actually I-”

“Great! We’re gunna’ get /so/ wasted!” The blonde had his hand over Joey’s other shoulder now, and if they had of been gay, Joey would have taken it the wrong way. As it was, being probably the only gay man squashed between two possibly straight ones, he was vaguely uncomfortable.

They swept out into the back alley and Joey held up a hand across his eyes, someone had parked across the back-alley, blocking the area off, and their headlights were on high beam. The hands around his shoulders were suddenly gone and his companions were suddenly not touching him. For the first time that night, fear trickled into his emotional mix. Something didn’t feel right.

There was a figure, standing between him and the French-frying lights of the van, it could have been blue, but he wasn’t sure. The figure was hard to make out, kind of like the shape of a plane when it flies directly in front of the sun. but the way it walked toward him, the shape, the build, even the scent, was oddly familiar.

“Jounouchi.” The voice was warm, comforting.

A hand extended toward Jounouchi and he paused, trying to place the damn smell and name, he knew it, but he hadn’t heard it in a while, of that he was sure. The blonde took the cool palm of the other man and suddenly he felt very, very cold inside. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.

“You don’t look happy to see me.” There wasn’t much to see anyway, the other was like an ink-blot. Jounouchi was trying to squint past the glare of the light, but it was enough to cause a headache. But the platinum blonde hair that flared around the other’s shoulders was achingly familiar.

The hand he was shaking had stopped shaking, but was still holding onto him, wrapping around his wrist like cold, strong iron. Jounouchi’s attention was on the hand. He tried to pull back, gently at first, but when the other refused to release him, he tugged a little harder. The grip tightened- muscles that were far stronger than a human’s made it so that unless Jounouchi were willing to use his own preternatural strength, he would not be getting free. He opened his mouth again, trying to think of something to say.

“Is that what it is? Not happy to see me? I did send you an apology about the bullet. If I had of known you were there, I would have taken precautions.”

It was just as well Jounouchi was pulled against the other’s chest then, just as well that his chin was tilted and his lips were sealed. Just as well, because he was so dumbstruck that a kiss was the least of his concerns. Someone could have started brain surgery on the Therianthrope right then and there, and he would have stood there and taken it.

It wasn’t so much of a kiss as being crushed into the other’s body, their mouths mashing a little haphazardly. Jounouchi’s mouth was partially open with a small sound, and the other was trying to French him. It didn’t work all that well, because Jounouchi was too dumbstruck to be French kissing. His wrist was caught between their bodies, and the cool hand under his chin was forcing him to move closer or bit on something. The tongue moving against his mouth was smooth, unusually so, and there was a hint of fang behind those soft lips. The sensation was not as it had once been.

After a brief return of sensory outputs that had him shift his weight from forward to backward, he began to struggle, not even caring to return the kiss.

The press of lips against lips turned chaste for a moment before the other finally released Jounouchi’s chin and allowed the shorter blonde to shift back a little.

Jounouchi had time to blink, like a deer caught in headlights at the other. He was still being held by his wrist, but unless the other really meant him harm it wouldn’t be that much of a problem.

Sirens suddenly wailed to life and the headlights on the van went off. The gap between them closed again, as the other blonde’s arm moved around Jounouchi’s waist. “What is it?”

“Shit, it’s HOUNDS, we’ve got to go, sir.” Someone spoke from inside the van, it was already reversing back out of the alley.

Jounouchi found himself breathing in that soft, familiar scent of musk and wheat- the smell that always tasted of something low and dangerous, something close to the ground. Being so close to the other, it was, disturbing. He felt like he could feel the dead skin of something not entirely warm, not entirely normal. It was probably his imagination.

“I’m sorry, we’ll have to talk later, Jounouchi.” The words were hissed in irritation.

Jounouchi’s chin was lifted once more for a small, chaste brush of lips before the Therianthrope was released from the grip around his body and the other blonde moved back to the open van.

The two men from inside the cage ran past him, jumping into the side of the blue van before the door slammed shut behind them and the vehicle drove away.

He was already on his knees, body shivering in fright.

He was just sitting there, hugging himself when Seto Kaiba found him.

“Are you alright Jounouchi? Are you hurt?” the lycanthrope was kneeling next to him, one hand grabbing Jounouchi’s bare shoulder.

The blonde shook his head. “I can’t believe Malik would be involved in all this.”


~Tsuzuku…

Sweet notes: mwuaha… ahah… hahaha!

Malik: Puppyshippin’ across the universe! On the starship fanfiction, under captain Smert!

Seto: Smert?

Jou: I think its smut, only typoed.

Seto: Ohh. Does it bother anyone else that something like that makes sense?

Sweets: Not really.

Jou: You don’t count, you’re the evil authoress…

Sweets: eheh…. Sorry about the delays minna. Thank you for all being so patient with me. ^^;