Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Mistletoe ❯ Mistletoe ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

The Spirit frightened her sometimes.

He was an unknown entity, mysterious and solemn, and completely unlike the shy, kindhearted boy whose body he shared.  He was intense, passionate, and completely without mercy toward those he considered his enemies.  He seemed willing to go to any lengths to win the duels he constantly fought, even if it meant physically harming his opponent, as he had nearly done to Kaiba atop Pegasus’s castle tower.

But he was also fiercely protective of Yugi, and seemed to genuinely care about the boy.  He had given in to Yugi's frantic pleas for him to throw the duel to Kaiba, putting an end to the final move that likely would have flung his opponent right off the castle and to a very deadly fall on the rocks far below.  The Spirit had seemed ashamed of his actions afterwards, and had done his best to make amends to his very-much-frightened vessel.

Yes, the Spirit did frighten her, but … he also drew her at the same time, rather like a moth to a lighted window, and she had no idea why.

Mazaki Anzu sighed as she opened the cabinet door above the oven and began pulling out ingredients in preparation for her annual Christmas cookie baking frenzy.  It was a Western tradition her grandmother had begun with her when she was barely four years old, and she had continued it every year since, even after her grandmother’s death.  Anzu always found it easier to bake her gifts rather than going out to buy them with her very limited funds, and nobody ever minded.  After all, her special sugar cookies were the best-baked cookies in the country, or so her friends swore up and down whenever they devoured their colorfully-wrapped plates of them every year.

This year was going to be a little bit different, however.  Unlike previous years, in which she always made the batches of cookies entirely on her own, she was going to have some help from a most unexpected source.  And she wasn’t entirely certain whether she ought to be glad or anxious about it.

The doorbell pealed loudly in that moment, startling the girl out of her thoughts and making her jump in surprise, before she hurried to the front door and—taking a deep, fortifying breath—opened it wide with a bright smile pasted on her face.  “Good morning, Yami!” she chirped, doing her best to hide her anxiety as a pair of serious, deep-amethyst eyes rose to meet her own blue gaze.

The Spirit gave a polite nod of his head in return, his eyes warming slightly at the sight of Yugi's longtime friend.  “Good morning,” he returned, his breath frosting in the chilly air.

Anzu’s smile had faltered slightly upon feeling the impact of those eyes, but now she forced it back to her face and stepped aside, inviting the young man into the much-warmer house.  She blinked as he passed her—she always forgot how tall he was compared to Yugi, who barely reached her shoulder—and was about to offer to take his coat when she realized he wasn’t wearing one.  “You know, it is winter now,” she scolded gently, plucking at his black, sleeveless shirt.  “At the very least, you ought to put on a sweater.  No sense in making yourselves sick, right?”

Yami blinked at her, those serious purple eyes at level with hers, and disconcertingly close.  “I suppose you're right,” he agreed amiably.  “It isn’t very far between our two houses, though, and Yugi seemed in a hurry for me to leave for some reason.”

A small laugh escaped Anzu's lips as she led him to the kitchen.  “Well, it was his idea for you to come.  He told me he wanted you to know a little more about Christmas traditions.”  She looked back over her shoulder and added in a conspiratorial whisper, “Personally, I think he just wants to sneak a peek at my secret recipe for those sugar cookies, so he can make them whenever he wants instead of having to wait a whole year between batches.”

Yami looked surprised, before his eyes unfocused slightly and just as quickly cleared.  A small, humorous smile twitched at his lips.  “Yugi asked me to tell you he heard that, and is mortally offended by such an accusation.”

Anzu burst out laughing.  “So he’s really here, huh?”  She glanced at the large, gaudy Puzzle hanging around his neck.

“Yes, he is waiting in our Soul Room.”

Anzu pursed her lips.  “No offense or anything, but it's kinda creepy,” she admitted.  “That two different people can share one body, I mean.  It’s sort of like having a split personality or something.”  Yami raised a slender eyebrow, and she hastily added, “Oh, not that I mean it’s a bad thing or anything!  Please don’t be angry.   Sometimes I speak before thinking about what I'm saying.”

“You need not worry, Anzu.  I’m not offended,” he assured her gently.  She turned to the counter on which her ingredients were sitting, and he couldn’t help but notice how tense her shoulders were.  He frowned, studying her; she sought to hide it, but he could clearly sense her unease.  Perhaps he'd been wrong to come here, after all.

Give her some time, Yami.  She just doesn’t know you well, that’s all, Yugi’s told him reassuringly.  This is why I wanted you to help her make cookies today.  So you could get to know her better.  She’s really a great person!

He didn't even try to hide the admiration in his voice, and Yami smiled slightly, knowing full-well of his lighter half's deeper feelings toward his friend.  I’m certain she is, he assured him.  As you seem so fond of her, she must be a very good person.  He could practically feel Yugi's blush, and chuckled inwardly.

“Yami?  You in there?”

Anzu’s voice brought the Spirit out of his silent conversation and, upon noticing the apprehension in her eyes, he favored her with his most reassuring smile.  To his surprise, she looked startled.  “Is … something wrong?” he asked, the smile vanishing from his face.

“Huh?”  Anzu blinked, flushing slightly.  “Oh … no, it's nothing,” she stuttered.  “It’s just that I—Well, I hardly ever see you smile, that’s all.  You’re so serious all the time.”  Almost as an afterthought, she added, “You've got a nice smile, though.  You should show it more oft—”  She abruptly cut herself off upon realizing what she was admitting.  The blush in her cheeks grew more pronounced when she saw the open astonishment on Yami’s face.  Yep.  A change of topic was definitely in order.

“So, anyway, I just want to mix this batter up, and then you can help me roll it out,” she said briskly.  “I’d let you help me mix it, but like I said, it’s my grandmother’s recipe and I’m the only person alive who knows it.  Even my mother doesn't know, but she's not much of a cook, anyway.  So, while I do this, you can watch television or there are books in the den or—”

Anzu realized she was babbling like an idiot, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.  Yami’s presence overwhelmed her in a most disconcerting fashion, and she was annoyed with herself for letting it get to her.  After all, this wasn't the first time she'd ever spent time with him.  There was that day awhile back when Yugi had asked her to give the Spirit advice on how to go about regaining his lost memories.  She'd spent practically the whole day with him, and it hadn't been horrible.  She'd had fun, and she thought he had, too, at least toward the end when he'd fought and won yet another duel.  And with her help, he had eventually discovered he'd once been a Pharaoh in the distant past.

That was when she'd figured out why he always held such a dignified, royal air about him.  He’d practically been worshiped as a god all those thousands of years ago, and she supposed that sort of upbringing never really left a person's psyche, even if their mind forgot.  More importantly, he'd single-handedly saved ancient Egypt from being swallowed by the Shadow Realms, by willingly sacrificing his own freedom to stop the uprising of dark powers.  Ever since learning all of this, Anzu had found herself to be a little bit in awe of the enigmatic Spirit.

Maybe this was why she was so uncomfortable, she thought.  A literal king was standing in her kitchen.  And unlike their last meeting, when they were out in the city surrounded by people—back before she knew he was a king—now it was just the two of them.  Alone.

Well, Yugi was there, too, she amended hastily.  But … he couldn't really count as a third wheel, could he?  After all, it was his body Yami was sharing.  Didn't that practically make them the same person?

Well, minus a foot or two of height and a whole boatload of magnetism, of course.

Oh.  Anzu paused as an epiphany struck her.  Was that the reason?  It may have been Yugi's body … but there was a vast difference between the two of them, and it wasn't truly the physical appearance that differed.  She realized it was Yami's aura that made him so fascinating.  The intense, captivating presence glowing in those sharp eyes seemed to command the attention of everyone who met him, demanding the respect owed a king.  His regal confidence served to heighten the physical beauty, as well, although there was very little change in that department when he took over.

Anzu pondered, with a bit of awe, on whether Yugi might one day look like that as himself.  She had noticed how her small, shy friend was slowly changing, gaining confidence and courage day by day thanks to Yami's continuing presence.  One day, she realized, when the smaller boy finally came into his own … the ladies were certainly going to swoon.

She found it strangely disturbing to think that she might lose her best friend when he finally got around to dating actual girls.  She refused to wonder why such an idea bothered her so much.  He had the right to find happiness just as much as the next person!  Just because she couldn't seem to find herself a decent guy didn't mean he had to share in her fate of being single and alone.  He was such a sweetheart; he deserved a nice girlfriend.

And she was staring at Yami.

Anzu abruptly realized this and couldn't keep the heat from spreading across her face, especially upon noticing that he was staring right back.  Not questioning, not accusing, simply looking.  His eyes gazed unwaveringly into hers as he allowed her to make her examination, and she immediately dropped her eyes to the counter between them, clearing her throat nervously as one hand reached up to push a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, wishing the floor would be kind enough to open up and swallow her, right then and there.

Of course, the floor wasn't nearly so obliging.  Right.  On to plan two.  Namely, pretending the past few moments had never occurred.  She was becoming an expert in denial at this point.  “Right,” she began, “so, I’m going to start mixing now.  Feel free to make yourself comfortable, really.  There’s plenty to drink in the fridge if you get thirsty.”

He turned to glide gracefully to the kitchen table, lowering himself onto a chair and turning to face her, watching silently as she began to crack eggs expertly into a bowl and measure flour and other ingredients.  “No peeking,” she scolded, forcing as much playful cheer into her voice as she could.  She twisted to hide her actions from the Spirit’s probing gaze, and succeeded in smudging the front of her apron with flour in the process, exactly as her grandmother had done when she had teased Anzu about “no peeking” those many years ago.

The repetitive motions of mixing batter were familiar and soothing; Anzu found herself slowly relaxing, her nervous tension ebbing away as she allowed memories of her grandmother and past Christmases to play through her mind.  Before she knew it, she was humming the familiar Christmas tune she and her grandmother had used to sing together, almost forgetting Yami's presence entirely.

The process of baking was always bittersweet for her.  On one hand, she loved to watch the blissful expressions settle over her friends’ faces when they bit into one of her cookies every year.  On the other, the memories were sometimes as sad as they were happy.  It was always at this time of year when Anzu missed her kind, loving grandmother the most.

“Anzu, is something wrong?”

She jumped, her thoughts disrupted; Yami had noticed the melancholy settling over her features, and was now watching her with obvious concern.  She blinked at him, a bit surprised, before a soft smile covered her lips.  “I’m fine,” she assured him.  He regarded her doubtfully, and she continued, “I was just remembering, that’s all.”  She hesitated.  “My grandmother was the one who started this cookie-baking tradition with me, before I was even old enough to work a stove.  We'd mix up the batter using her own recipe, and then we’d decorate her house while the cookies baked.  It's a Western tradition she learned when her family lived in England for awhile.”

Her voice saddened a little.  “She died when I was ten years old.  Ever since then, I’ve kind of been doing this on my own.  I always remember what it was like back then, with the radio blasting Christmas music and Grandma dancing around the kitchen to Bing Crosby.”  She sighed and smiled, her eyes glimmering with memories.

“Is she the reason you love dancing so much, as well?” Yami asked gently, his gaze soft upon her.

She tilted her head thoughtfully.  “You know, I never thought about that before.  But yeah, I guess I started to love dancing when I used to dance with her.  I stood on her shoes when I was little enough.”  She laughed to herself and shook her head.  “Grandma actually taught me how to waltz that way.”

“Waltz?”

“It’s a type of dance that originated from Europe ages ago.  Back then, it was considered very risqué.  It required a lot of touching between partners, which was highly inappropriate in that era.”

“Doesn’t dancing with a partner usually require touching?” Yami asked.  He may have been an ancient Pharaoh, but there were some things obvious enough about the modern world.

Anzu grinned.  “Well, obviously, this one required more touching than was considered proper between unmarried men and women.  Which is why it was so wildly popular, of course.”

“Of course,” he deadpanned.

“Well, anyway, the batter is mixed.  You can come help me cut it if you like.”  She reached into a box and began pulling out an assortment of objects made of thin strips of tin, which had been formed into different shapes.  Curiosity got the better of him as he stood and made his way to the counter, picking up one of the tin objects to examine it.  It looked like a star.

“These are cookie cutters,” Anzu explained.  “You roll out your dough, like this, and press the sharper edge of the cutter into it.  Like this.”  She demonstrated for him, removing the cutter and carefully lifting a perfectly tree-shaped chunk of dough onto her hand.  “There.  You see?  Nothing to it.”  She gave him a bright smile, her earlier unease long forgotten to his great relief.  She proceeded to roll out more of the dough, snatching a bite or two every now and again.  Noticing Yami's faint expression of disgust, she grinned and held out a small chunk.  “Have a bite,” she invited innocently.

“It’s … raw,” he replied with obvious distaste.

“Of course!  Half the fun of making them is eating the dough.  Go ahead, it won’t kill you.”

He hesitantly accepted the sticky dough ball and eyed it warily for a moment, before slowly bringing it to his lips.  The saccharine fragrance of sugar assaulted his nose, making it twitch, before he placed the dough into his mouth.  He chewed for a moment before swallowing, his face impassive, while Anzu looked on curiously.

“Well?” she asked after a moment.

“It was … good,” he replied indifferently.

She raised an eyebrow at him.  “Only good?”  She was obviously amused; about what, he couldn’t begin to fathom.  He shrugged, and she giggled a little as she continued to cut out shapes.  “I guess you’re not a raw cookie dough kind of a guy,” she concluded.  “The one time I actually let the boys come over here to help, I could hardly keep their hands out of the batter long enough to have some left to bake!”

“Yugi willingly eats it raw?”  Yami looked vastly disturbed, and she laughed again.

“When they’re baked, I’m sure you’ll like them much better,” she promised, placing two more man-shaped cookies onto the full tray.  “Right.  That’s all for this batch.  Let them bake for twenty minutes, and then we can cut out more.  I usually make two or three dozen at a time.  They’re my Christmas gift to my friends and family,” she explained, opening the oven door.  A wave of heat flowed into the kitchen as she carefully slid the trays inside and adjusted a small dial.  “Well, that’s all for now.”

“What else is there to do?” Yami asked.

“While these bake, we can put up some Christmas decorations.”  She headed out to the hallway and he curiously followed, watching as she opened the door of a small, cluttered closet.  “Hmmm … now where did Dad shove that thing?” she muttered to herself, sticking her head in to rummage around.  Yami eyed the items balanced precariously on the overflowing shelves, prepared to leap forward and yank Anzu out of harm’s way should anything decide to fall.  After another few moments, her head popped back out of the closet and she eyed it with a dark frown.  “Weird.  I could've sworn Dad put it in here last year ...”

Her gaze traveled the length of the closet and then rose to the topmost shelf.  There, she could just see a bit of sparkling tinsel hanging out over the top of a beaten-up old box.  “Ah-hah!” she crowed triumphantly, pointing at it.  Then her shoulders slumped.  “Leave it to Dad to pack it all the way at the top,” she grumbled, standing on her toes to reach up as far as she could.  Her fingers brushed the box, and she managed to slide it forward an inch or two in order to get a better grip, before carefully lowering it from the shelf, grasping it by its bottom.

“A-Anzu, would you like some help?” Yami asked nervously, seeing the box begin to tip just a little too far ...

“No, I've got it,” she replied, her voice muffled.  “Thanks anywayyyikes!”  She uttered a short yelp as the box, its back half still caught on the shelf, abruptly tipped the entire way over, sending its contents spilling down in a shower of glittering tinsel and homemade decorations.  The box itself landed upside-down over her head, the impact causing her to lose her balance and fall over, landing quite comically on her backside among the litter.

Yami hastily knelt beside her and lifted the box from her head, his brow furrowed with concern.  Mortified blue eyes peered back at him through wisps of soft hair and several strands of garland; her face was scarlet with embarrassment.  “Are you injured?” he asked softly, attempting to keep the smile from his face at the utterly hilarious picture she made.  Yugi was practically howling with laughter, making no attempt to hide his amusement.  Yami scolded him silently, extremely glad Anzu couldn’t hear his lighter half laughing himself silly.  Yugi calmed enough to apologize, but the grin never left his face.  It was a rare thing to witness Anzu—who was usually so very graceful—making such a klutz out of herself.

“Only my ego,” Anzu muttered as she glared at the floor, too embarrassed to meet the Spirit’s worried gaze.  “And tell Yugi he had better shut up if he expects to get a plate of cookies this year.”

That startled the both of them into instant silence.  How had she known?

A wry smirk touched her lips, even as she irritably brushed the garland from her head and stood up.  “Yugi's been my best friend since practically forever.  I know him,” she sniffed, and Yami felt his counterpart's astonishment as if it were his own.

Anzu cleared her throat and took a deep breath, regaining her composure.  “That … could have gone better.”  She looked in dismay at the boxes and decorations strewn all around her.  “Oh dear.  I’m sure I heard something break.”  She stooped to pick up a small box, opening it hesitantly as though afraid of what she’d find.

It was as she’d feared; the box contained several glass Christmas ornaments, most of which had broken from the fall, resting in a number of sharp pieces at the bottom.  She supposed with some patience, and a lot of glue, she’d be able to repair them enough to be useable.  At least they were fairly new, and not the antiques her mother kept safely in her own bedroom closet.  Anzu would never get out of it alive if she’d managed to break any of those.

Yami was opening another box, holding up the broken wing of what had once been an angel.  “They can be fixed?” he asked doubtfully, shifting through the broken pieces.

“Yeah, assuming we can figure out which pieces belong to what,” she sighed, pursing her lips.  “But hey, I've got an expert puzzle-solver right here, right?”  She flashed him a wry grin.  “We can take care of that later.  Right now, I guess I’d better clean up this mess.”  She began picking up tinsel garland, sorting it out carefully before placing it back in the box.  Most of these decorations were for the tree, she realized, and as her family had yet to set one up, they wouldn’t do much good.  She set aside a light set to hang around the front windows, and a pile of garland to tape around the door.

“What is this?”  Yami had noticed a strange object clinging stubbornly to Anzu’s hair, and now he reached out to pluck what looked like some kind of a velvety, plastic plant (which had obviously seen better days) from the soft strands.  The plant was tied with a bedraggled red bow and a hook to hang it from somewhere.  Several of its leaves were missing.  To his surprise, when Anzu glanced at it, her eyes widened and her cheeks began to turn red again.

“That's … erm … nothing,” she muttered, hastily snatching it from his hand.  “Just some old decoration.  I don’t even know why my mom keeps it around.  I guess it's 'cause it used to belong to Grandma.  Sentimental value and all that.”

Yami was more than a little suspicious now.  It was a reasonable explanation, but Anzu's behavior was most curious.  He sent an inquiry to Yugi, and was unprepared for his sudden bout of hilarity.  It’s mistletoe, came the delighted reply.  I can’t believe Anzu actually has mistletoe in her house!  Heh.  It looks like it’s been well-used, too.  Yugi's tone was smug, increasing Yami's curiosity even more.

And what does this mistletoe … do, exactly? he asked.  Anzu seems rather … chagrined.

Yugi grinned slyly.  It's another Western tradition, like the cookie baking.  The mistletoe gets hung from the ceiling, or a doorjamb, or some place like that.  Then, whenever somebody steps beneath it, whoever is next to them has to kiss them.  He giggled.  You said this was caught in her hair?  No wonder she's so embarrassed!

A kiss?  Yami raised an eyebrow as he glanced at Anzu’s glowing face.  She studiously avoided his eyes as she put the decoration back into the box, burying it quite thoroughly beneath piles of garland.  Several strands of golden tinsel were still entwined in her shining hair, glittering brightly.  That combined with her rather becoming blush caused Yami’s heart to give a strange lurch.  Yugi, of course, immediately picked up on the Spirit’s odd reaction, and his eyes widened with surprise before a slow, delighted smile crept over his face.

Was it possible Yami was beginning to feel the stirrings of a crush toward his long-time friend?  He sincerely hoped so; he'd been trying to push them together, in his shy, awkward way, for awhile now.  He himself had been crushing on Anzu for as long as he could remember, but he'd never had the courage to act on his feelings.  He didn't think he stood a chance with the girl … but if Yami were to fall for her, he held no doubt about the enigmatic Spirit's ability to seduce Anzu right into his arms.  If that were to happen, he reasoned, it would be like getting the girl of his dreams himself.  After all, he and Yami were nearly the same person.  At the very least, he wanted the Spirit to be happy, and Anzu had a special knack for making everyone she met feel that way.  If Yugi couldn’t have Anzu as anything more than a friend, he'd decided that Yami deserved her more than anyone else.  They would good for each other; he felt it in his heart.

All the same, as neither of them seemed to be planning to make any sort of a move on the other, it was clearly up to him to help things along.  So, he began with utmost innocence, what exactly are you waiting for, Yami?  Go ahead and kiss her!

Yami, who had not been expecting this sudden encouragement from his lighter half, nearly choked in shock, and abruptly began to cough.  Anzu jumped, startled, and rose to her feet.  “I … um … the cookies!  I'd better check on the cookies.  To make sure they aren’t burning,” she mumbled, hurrying past the surprised Spirit and back to the kitchen.  It had only been ten minutes; the cookies were far from being burned, of course, but she grasped the excuse like a lifeline.  What had that expression been on Yami’s face a moment ago?  Shock?  He’d been quiet for a few moments there; she was pretty he’d been speaking to Yugi, most likely asking him what the decoration really was.  It would explain the shock quite nicely if Yugi had disclosed the time-honored tradition behind the mistletoe.  Anzu groaned and covered her face with her hands, not sure whether to laugh or beat her head against the counter.  She wasn’t ever going to be able to look Yami in the eye again, was she?

A quiet step alerted her to his presence, and she looked up and smiled weakly, keeping her eyes firmly trained on his collar.  “Okay, so … what did Yugi tell you about the mistletoe?”

“He explained the … tradition,” Yami replied carefully, seating himself at a stool beside the counter.

Anzu huffed a short laugh.  “It belonged to Grandma.  Apparently, it’s how she met Grandad.  She was at a Christmas party in England, and he’d been trying to get her attention all night.  She ignored him, because she was there with another date.  Somehow, the mistletoe ended up in her hair—she said she never could explain how it got there—and Grandad used it to his advantage.”  She grinned wryly.  “He waited until he caught her alone, told her ‘it’s tradition!’, and then he kissed her.  I guess she kept the decoration as a memory.  She hung it every Christmas in her house, even after Grandad passed away, up until she died, and now Mom continues the tradition for her.”

Yami regarded Anzu through gentle eyes, smiling as she related the tale.  “It's a very romantic story,” he told her when she’d finished.  “Determination and persistence are good qualities.”

Anzu suddenly grinned, her eyes sparkling mischievously.  “Yeah, but Grandma didn’t think so at the time.  As soon as Grandad let go, she slapped him a good one and stormed out of the party.  He still didn’t give up, but it was another two months before she finally relented and allowed him to court her.”

Yami chuckled, his face lighting with that rare smile again.  Anzu felt suddenly flushed and cleared her throat, excusing herself to check on the cookies.  There were still five minutes left on the clock, but already they had browned to a crispy, golden hue.  She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.  “Mmmmm ...” she breathed.  “I love this smell.  It smells like Christmas.”  When she opened her eyes again, she was startled to find Yami kneeling just beside her, his face only inches from her own.  Dark blue clashed with warm, intense violet, and time seemed to freeze for a long, slow moment.  They poised there, balanced on the brink of something delicate and ethereal, before Yami slowly blinked, breaking the trance.

Anzu started breathing again, rising shakily to her feet and commanding her heart to still its erratic pounding.  She didn't know what had just happened, but it had seriously shaken something inside her.  She was nervous all over again, but for an entirely different reason.  Her mouth was suddenly too dry, but her palms felt damp as she slid the oven mitts on.  She carefully pulled the hot trays from the oven, using a spatula to slide perfectly-baked cookies from the sheets onto the cooling racks on the table.

“We should let the trays cool a little before putting more dough on them,” she mumbled, still a little jittery from her close encounter.  Good grief, the chores had barely begun!  If it was going to be like this all day, she’d be a royal mess of nerves by the time Yami finally left!  She needed to do something to distract herself from the enthralling presence of the former king.  It was becoming quite obvious that she was fast developing a rather inappropriate attachment toward the dark Spirit.  That would be a stupid thing to do; Yami had been locked away for thousands of years in an ancient, magical puzzle, without human contact of any kind.  Did he even remember what love was anymore?  Could someone like him be attracted to someone like her in the first place?  She doubted she was his type; he'd been a king, and had no doubt been surrounded by the most exotic women in the world.  She knew she wasn't ugly, but she also knew she couldn't be compared with the beauties he'd once known.

Besides that, he was living inside Yugi’s body.  She couldn't use her best friend just to be with Yami.  It wouldn’t be right.  She cared greatly for Yugi, far more than she'd ever admitted to.  Sure, maybe she was taller than him, and a little older, but that had never mattered.  Yugi was kind, intelligent, and he genuinely cared about her.  As a friend.  He had never shown an interest of that sort, so she’d never tried to force her attentions on him.  His friendship meant more to her than anything, and she wasn’t about to risk ruining it just because he’d never asked her out on a date.

The cookie sheets had cooled sufficiently, so she began to roll out more dough, aware of Yami's gaze settled on her in silent contemplation.  She flashed a brief smile as she handed him a cutter, then began cutting shapes of her own in the soft dough, arranging them carefully on the trays.  He was being disconcertingly quiet.  This wasn’t anything new; he was always quiet.  But today his silence seemed more foreboding than usual.  She wished she could read his mind.  She longed to know what he was thinking.  Was he regretting ever coming here in the first place?

The silence stretched on, and Anzu finally had enough.  She made her way to the stereo, flipped through some cassette tapes, popped one into the player, and hit play.  Immediately, Bing Crosby’s crooning voice filled the air with his rendition of White Christmas, and she began to relax a little more.  “Gotta hand it to Bing,” she announced with forced cheer.  “The man can definitely croon a tune.”

“Are you going to teach me to dance the waltz now?”  Yami sounded amused, and Anzu turned a startled gaze on him.

She laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.  “I … uh … this isn’t really a waltz-y kind of a song,” she said sheepishly, sliding the trays into the oven.  “It’s more of a ... slow-dance kind of song.”

“So teach me to slow-dance then?”  Yami crossed his arms casually as he half-leaned, half-sat against the kitchen counter.  From the Soul Room, Yugi cheered him on.  He hushed the impish boy with some amusement.

Anzu’s lips twitched upward in a slight smile.  “Yami, you do realize you’re sitting in flour, right?” she said blandly, eyeing the counter pointedly.

Yami immediately jumped up, straining to peer over his shoulder so he could assess the damage done to his black pants, turning in a half-circle as he did so.  Anzu laughed upon seeing that the seat of his pants was entirely white.  “You might want to brush yourself off before leaving the kitchen,” she advised him, hiding a smile behind her hand.

He beat futilely at his rear, sending up puffs of white and doing little to remove the flour.  Anzu couldn’t help laughing at the sight.  “Want some help?”  She grinned widely at his mortified expression.  “Hold on.”  She grabbed a dishtowel and wound it into a tight, snake-like whip.  “Right.  Just hold still now,” she chirped, advancing toward him.

His eyes widened with alarm as he began to back away.  “Just what do you intend to do with that?” he demanded suspiciously.

She smiled innocently.  “Whatever do you mean?  I’m just going to help you dust off.  Can’t have you getting flour all over my house, now can I?”

“I can manage on my own,” he replied stiffly, keeping the table well between him and the towel.

She laughed again and snapped the towel playfully at him.  “Oh, come on.  I promise it won't hurt a bit,” she teased.

“Anzu,” he pleaded laughingly, “just put the towel down.  Please.”

“Oh, all right.  If you insist,” she sighed, tossing the towel into the sink.  “All this fuss over a little towel.  Hard to believe you can stand up against all those scary duel monsters and yet you can’t even face off against little ol’ me.”

He looked insulted for a moment, before a sly grin touched his lips.  “The monsters are fairly predictable,” he replied, “whereas I am quickly discovering that you, my dear, are anything but.”

She tilted her head to one side, then suddenly smiled.  “I'll take that as a compliment,” she chirped.

“Good.  It was intended to be one.”  Ignoring her surprise, Yami stepped toward her and held out his hands a bit awkwardly.  “Go ahead, Anzu,” he whispered fondly.  “Teach me how to dance.  Show me your passion.”

Well, there went her thrice-cursed heart again, attempting to pound its way right through her throat.  She swallowed it back down to where it belonged and hesitantly accepted his hands.  Warm, strong fingers closed over hers and pulled her closer to him, and she bit her lip anxiously.  Right.  What was she supposed to be doing again?

Dancing.  You’re teaching him to slow dance.  Just … show him how it’s done and then get back to something normal, she told herself firmly.  “Okay, well, it’s fairly simple.  Just—Okay, you put your arms around my waist, and I—um, mine go around your neck.  Like this.”  She slipped her arms shyly around Yami’s neck, keeping her eyes trained on his mouth—Okay, okay.  Bad place to be staring at the moment.  She dropped her gaze to his chin.

Yami’s arms slid around her waist in a loose, comfortable embrace as he waited patiently for her to continue.  As soon as she found her voice again, she added, “Now we just kinda … start moving together in a slow circle and try not to step on each others' feet.”  A small smile lifted the corner of her mouth.  “See?  Nothing to it.”

Her face had to be glowing like Rudolph’s nose by then.  Yami no doubt thought she was being a moron for making so much out of a simple situation, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.  She’d never actually danced with a man before.  That Yami was sharing this one with her made it seem all the more significant.  She was definitely falling for him, and there seemed to be very little she could do about it.  Quite honestly, she wasn't sure she wanted to stop this feeling even if she could.

They moved silently together in a circle in the middle of the kitchen floor, not daring to look at each other and doing a pretty good job of avoiding toes.  Yami was experiencing his own strange emotions about his current situation, the topmost being that he was greatly enjoying himself.  He could feel Yugi’s smug grin in the back of his mind, and had to smile at the boy’s obvious satisfaction.  It looked like his vessel’s plan had worked out even better than he’d hoped.  Yami lowered his gentle gaze to Anzu’s head, which had lowered to rest against his shoulder, and his eyes widened briefly as a flash of pale green caught his eye, tangled deep in the strands of her hair.  Was that … ?

The beeper went off then, causing the both of them to jump.  Anzu laughed sheepishly as she reluctantly stepped from his arms.  “Guess the cookies are done.”  She ducked past him and opened the door to pull the finished batch from the oven.  

They were silent as they prepared the next batch for baking.  Anzu then began to mix a batch of white icing.  She filled a pair of plastic sandwich bags with the sugary concoction, tied off the open end, cut the corner tip off each one, and proceeded to show Yami how to squeeze it out onto the finished cookies, outlining each one in pure white.

After a few failed tries, Yami eventually got it right and they worked silently until the two batches were finished.  Anzu rearranged them to make room for the third and fourth batch, then leaned back in her chair.  “Almost done,” she announced, stretching her arms above her head to work the kinks out of her neck.  She took one of the cookies from the paper sheets, snapped it in half, and handed one part to him.  “Here.  Have a taste,” she offered.

He took it slowly.  “Are you sure?  These are for your gifts, after all.”

“Don't worry, I always make extra.  Besides, you’ve been really helpful today, and I appreciate that.  You’ve definitely earned a taste.”  Her eyebrow rose in challenge.  “Unless you’re afraid my baking is poisonous or something,” she finished with a smirk.

Yami bit into the cookie delicately and chewed, his expression slowly clearing to one of delight.  “This is truly delicious!  I understand now why they’re so popular.”  In his head, Yugi whined playfully about not being able to get a taste.

Anzu gave him a pleased smile, looking satisfied as she took a bite out of her half.  “Told ya,” she replied smugly.  “Grandma’s cookies are the best.”

“But you’re the one who made them, Anzu,” he told her softly.  “They’re your cookies now.”

Anzu blushed a little, tracing her finger around a drop of icing on the table.  “It's Grandma's recipe, though.  But, if you want to get technical about it, I guess since you helped today then they’d be our cookies now.  I'll add your name to the Christmas cards I give with them, if you like.”

Yami smiled slowly.  Anzu and Yami.  He rather liked the sound of it.  Yugi snickered in his mind, and he sighed inwardly.  He loved his vessel like a brother, but really.

Yugi, do you mind…?

Sorry!  Sorry!  Don’t mind me!  I’ll just be sitting over here, contemplating the meaning of life or something.  You won’t even know I’m here, Yugi replied impishly.  Then, with poorly-feigned innocence, By the way, you did notice what was in her hair, didn’t—

Yugi!

I’m going!  I’m going!  With another smug laugh, the connection was closed off.

~*~*~*~*~

It took most of the day for the cookies to be baked, decorated, and finally arranged on pretty ceramic plates, wrapped with colored cellophane paper, and tied with white silk ribbons.  They placed them in the pantry on an empty shelf, then began to clean up the kitchen.  Anzu insisted that she could clean up herself, but Yami wouldn’t hear of it.  It was amusing to see the King of Games wearing an apron and washing dishes, and Anzu wished heartily for a camera to capture the moment, but settled for engraving it into her memory instead.  This had turned out to be a most excellent day, and she was now sincerely glad she’d allowed Yugi to talk her into letting the Spirit help.

It had grown dark by the time Yami suggested he’d best be getting back to the game store, before Yugi’s grandfather began to worry about him.  Hiding her disappointment, Anzu agreed—her parents would be home from work soon and she needed to cook dinner—and offered him one of her father's coats to wear on the way home, since the temperature had no doubt dropped with the setting of the sun.  Yet another excuse for him to see her again, she thought slyly.

He stopped at the front door and turned to regard her seriously, taking her hand in his.  “Thank you for allowing me to be here today,” he said quietly.  “I enjoyed it greatly.”

“So did I,” she replied with a bright smile.  “I appreciated the help.  It made the time go by much faster.”  She wrinkled her nose.  “I don’t know that you actually learned anything useful about Christmas though.”

“Oh, but I did,” he replied sincerely, his eyes shining down at her.  “I've discovered that it’s about spending time with those you care for, friends and family, wanting to make them happy.  It’s a wonderful reason to celebrate.”  His smile was as gentle as his eyes, and she ducked her head shyly, causing the smile to widen.  “I also learned something else,” he added a bit playfully.  “Something rather interesting, I might add.”

“The dancing?” she guessed.

“Well, there’s that.  I enjoyed it very much, by the way,” he added, liking the way her face lit up briefly at the compliment.  His hand reached out to her hair, and her face came up with a sharp jerk, surprise written all over her features at the feel of his fingers twining themselves in the soft strands.  After a moment, he pulled away and brought his hand down before her eyes.  She blinked to focus on what he was holding between his fingers, and her eyes widened when she recognized it to be one of the missing leaves of the sprig of mistletoe they’d earlier found.

“Oh, my.  It … uh … must’ve gotten stuck there.”  She released an embarrassed little half-laugh.  “History really does repeat itself, huh?” she joked weakly.  When he made no reply, she hastened to add, “Don’t worry!  You don't have to follow the tradition or anything like that.  It's kinda silly, anyway, right?  I mean, it isn't even real mistlet—”  She was cut off abruptly as gentle fingers pressed against her lips; she slowly raised her eyes to meet those of the Spirit, and found herself being engulfed in deep, enigmatic pools of emotion.

“I am Pharaoh, the son of Ra.  My upbringing was steeped in tradition,” he murmured, tucking the leaf back into her hair.  “Who am I to be the one to break it?”

Anzu’s eyes widened as her face was tilted up; lean, strong fingers curled under her chin and into her hair as he drew closer to her, ever-so-close, until she felt his breath ghost over her lips, and finally the heady press of warm flesh against them.

She simply melted into his arms.  She couldn’t help herself.  The kiss was so gentle; his lips soft as they caressed her mouth for long, slow moments.  It was all there.  Yugi’s inherent gentleness mingled thoroughly with Yami’s dark passion.  Her first crush and her second.  Two separate entities sharing a single body; it felt as though they were both kissing her at once, and maybe they were.  She didn’t pretend to understand the way their bond worked, nor did she pretend to care.  All she knew was this single moment, this consuming pleasure.  She didn't want it to end.

Yami finally lifted his mouth from hers, panting lightly, his eyes lidded as he gazed intently at her.  “By all that’s holy, Anzu,” he murmured with a touch of wonder, caressing her lips with the tips of his fingers.  “I … never thought ...”

Anzu wondered if she’d be able to stand on her own once he finally let her go.  Her entire body felt warm and languid, like butter slowly melting over the hot fire that had ignited low in her belly.  She sought to speak, and realized she had no idea what to say in such a situation.  “Um … wow,” was all she managed to get out.  Finding her voice, she added shyly, “I … I wish you'd done that sooner.”

His smile was slow and sensual as he lowered his face to nuzzle softly at her neck, pressing light, fluttering kisses to the sensitive flesh under her jaw.  “If I’d known you wanted me to, I certainly would have.”  A small grin touched his lips.  “If I’d known how wonderful your lips taste, I would have whether you wanted me to or not,” he murmured into her ear.

She closed her eyes again, her fingers tightening on his bicep.  “A-and risk getting slapped?” she mumbled, only half-teasing.  The way he was nuzzling at her ear was most distracting, especially when he took the lobe between his teeth to nip at it softly.

“That kiss was worth any number of slaps,” he nearly growled, never halting in his torture of her ear.  He felt her shiver, whimper softly, and arousal surged through his body, hot and fast.  “In fact,” he panted, “I think I need to do it again.”

He caught her hands, entwining their fingers and raising them to press to the wall beside her head, pinning her with his body as he caught her lips in another kiss.  She could feel him, pressed intimately along her entire length, and there was a hard, warm pressure on her thigh that she realized a moment later was evidence of Yami's obvious desire.  She flushed when she realized what she was feeling, lifted her leg, just a bit, to press more firmly to the hard ridge nudging at her thigh.  His reaction was a low moan and a thrust of his hips, and then his hand was releasing hers to slide slowly down her arm, caressing over her side and down the back of her thigh; he gripped her leg and lifted it to wrap about his waist, before giving another forceful thrust of his hips.  She gasped into his mouth as his erection prodded sharply against her aroused body, centered directly between her legs.  Her short jean skirt had ridden up; only her panties and his tight, black pants separated them; the feel of supple leather against her naked, inner thighs was an unbelievably erotic sensation.

She trembled as Yami pushed again.  He drew her arms over his shoulders and slid his other hand down her body, lifting her other leg to wrap firmly around his waist.  Holding her tightly in his arms, pinning her to the wall with his hips, he began a slow, twisting grind against her core.  His head dropped to her shoulders and he fastened his lips to her neck, suckling in time with his hard thrusts while she whimpered and panted into his ear, squirming against his straining body.  His hand slid up her side, under her button-down shirt; slipping his fingers into her bra, he pulled it aside and covered her breast with his palm.  She released a sharp gasp as he fondled and caressed, rolling her tightening nipple between his fingers  “Yami,” she gasped, throwing back her head at the ensuing pleasure.  He pushed her shirt up eagerly, tearing buttons in his haste as he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the hard little nub, kissing softly, before sucking it into his mouth to continue his ministrations with lips and tongue.

She showed her delight by her one-handed grip in his hair, urging him to continue.  Her other hand slid down his back to cup his buttocks, kneading with his increasingly desperate grinding as he instinctively sought to ease the mounting pressure in his groin.  He grunted, holding her tight in one arm as he slid his hand to the zipper of his pants, hurriedly undoing the closure and freeing himself.  The hot silk of her parted thighs against his aroused flesh was exquisite torture.  “Anzu,” he groaned, slipping two fingers into her panties, sinking them into her slick folds and eliciting a gasp.  “Let me take you.  Please.  Let me make you mine.”

He was almost there; a mere pushing aside of that scrap of fabric, and he could sink into her and bury himself in her waiting body.  Her arousal was obvious, her body more than ready to accept him.  She needed him as badly as he did her.  His erection throbbed painfully, nearly on the verge of release.  He couldn't wait much longer; his fingers hooked around the sodden fabric of her panties and began to pull aside, his probing tip brushing soft curls of hair as he began to slowly push into—

“Wait.  Don't—Yami, stop.”

And everything froze.

They poised there, wrapped around each other, flushed and swollen and panting.  Her shirt was opened entirely, its buttons missing or hanging by mere threads.  Her bra's front closure had come undone, exposing breasts that looked bruised and swollen from his intense sucking.  He longed to press one to his mouth again and kiss the tenderness away.  With effort, he fixed his dazed eyes on Anzu's face, wondering what had happened.  He could still feel her against him.  They were still just barely connected; a single thrust would push him completely inside of her.  His penis throbbed with renewed vigor at the thought, but he held himself in check by the sheer force of his immense will.

That, and the wide-eyed, slightly fearful gaze she had fixed on him.

The fear shocked him into releasing her, making sure she could stand on her own before stepping away entirely.  She braced herself against the wall, legs trembling, clothing skewed, highly aroused and more than ready to finish with him, despite her protests.  She was staring in rapt fascination at his body.  He let her look, not caring that he was still exposed, wanting her to see him, to see how much he needed to be inside of her.  He cupped himself in his palm and ran his fingers lightly over his twitching member.  “Do you see, Anzu,” he murmured huskily, slowly pumping himself just to watch her squirm.  “This is what you do to me.  This is how much I need you.”  He scraped a thumbnail roughly over his seeping head, and his stomach seized as the resulting pleasure-pain nearly caused him to release.  He grunted, the strength giving out in his legs, and fell heavily to his knees, gasping through gritted teeth.  He felt Yugi's low groan, belatedly realizing that he'd allowed the overwhelming sensations and emotions of the past few minutes to bleed over into his other half's mind, that he'd been feeling everything.

D-don't pull back, Yugi begged when Yami attempted to close off the connection.  P-please, let me feel—

“I need you, too.”

The whisper silenced Yugi's words on a gasp, and Yami's gaze instantly sharpened on Anzu; she had sunk to the floor, and was now studiously staring at it, her brow furrowed.  “That was—I want to—It's not like I wasn't … really enjoying it, but, Yami, it isn't right.  Whatever this is … it's not something to just … just rush into.  I was raised to be more responsible than that.  And to use Yugi's body in such a way would be awful of us.  I … like you a lot, but I would never, ever do anything to hurt Yugi.  I'd never forgive myself.  He never asked for this; what right to we have to take his choices away?”

“Anzu.”

She glanced up, startled to find that he'd once again snuck up on her, kneeling only inches away as his eyes searched hers.  “Do you … love Yugi?”

Her eyes widened, her flushed cheeks darkening further, before lowering her gaze again and nodding once.  “For a long time,” she admitted softly.

“Anzu.”

His voice suddenly sounded different; lighter somehow, less husky, but no less passionate.  When she looked up again, it wasn't Yami who gazed at her with such bright, loving eyes and the familiar, quirky smile she knew so well.  She panicked, realizing he'd been listening in.  For how long, though?  Did he realize what she and Yami had nearly done?  “Y-Yugi—”

He hushed her with a finger pressed to her lips.  His eyes were brilliant with emotion.  “I love you, too,” he whispered, before leaning in to press a soft, chaste kiss to her mouth that was wholly Yugi.  She shivered, and he slipped his arms around her, holding her to him in a warm, comforting embrace.  “You don't know how long I've wanted to hear you say that,” he mumbled.  She was startled to feel him trembling slightly against her.  “If this is a dream I don't want to ever wake up.”

Her eyes softened.  It was such a Yugi-like thing to say.  “You … don't mind?” she asked timidly.  “You never seemed—I mean, we were always friends, and you never seemed interested in me like … like this.  I thought maybe—”

“I've always loved you, Anzu.  You're the only one I ever wanted.  But, I didn't think you'd want me back.  So I thought if I could get you to see Yami, to maybe fall for him ...”  He trailed off, blushing lightly.

“You … wanted to set me up with Yami?  Is that why you kept asking me to spend time with him?”

“If anyone deserves to be loved by you, it's definitely Yami.”

“But, what about you?  How can you be so … so self-sacrificing?”

“It wasn't entirely selfless of me,” he confessed sheepishly.  “If you were with him, then in a way you'd be with me, as well.  Through him, I could love you how I've always wanted to.”

She blinked.  “D-does that mean you … could feel when we were—”  She stopped, too embarrassed to continue.

“Every moment.  I guess Yami was too focused on … pleasuring you to concentrate on keeping me out.  Not that I'm complaining.”  His gaze softened, and one hand rose to softly caress her breast.  “Does it hurt?” he whispered.  “He was … very enthusiastic, wasn't he?”  A small smile touched his lips as he examined the developing bruises from his kisses, the bud of her nipple still swollen from the sensual torture.

“A bit sore,” she admitted, blushing.  “He might've eased up a bit.”

“I can't blame him, though.  You tasted so good, Anzu.”  He kissed her breast softly.

She blushed darkly.  And that was a very un-Yugi like thing to say, or do!  Of course, so was swinging his leg over hers to straddle her, his torso and hips pressed against her as his arms encircled her neck.  She could feel his arousal trapped between them, prodding insistently against her lower belly, and realized he was still quite eager to continue.  “So, now that you know I have no intention of putting a stop to this,” he whispered, his lips so close to hers that she could feel the static heat of them, “do you still have any objections to making love with us?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head, and was rewarded with a soft kiss, before his weight was abruptly gone.  She opened her eyes and saw him getting shakily to his feet.  And Yami stood gazing down at her, his enigmatic eyes practically smoldering with banked desire.  “But you're right,” he continued, helping her to stand before turning to straighten out his clothes.  She hastily followed his example, fastening her bra, although her shirt was a lost cause.  “Now isn't the right time.  As you said, this is not something to be rushed into.  It deserves far more consideration than a quick, hard screw on the floor.  You deserve moonlight and candles … at the very least, something soft to lie on when we fully take you.  You deserve all the time we can give you, so we can thoroughly love you.”

“W-we?”

“To accept one of us means you must accept both of us,” he murmured.  “Can you do that, my Anzu?  Can you love us both?”

The briefest hesitation, and she nodded shyly.  She already loved one of them, and was fast on her way to falling for the other.  She wished heartily for more time, so she could discover just how far Yami could make her fall in a single night.  But her parents were due within the hour, and she had yet to start dinner.  Sigh.  She picked up the trench coat from its place on the floor where she'd dropped it.  When he put it on, it hung the whole way to his feet, and she couldn't hold back an amused chortle as he stared, disgruntled, at the too-long sleeves covering his hands.

“Sorry, it's all I have,” she told him.  “Unless you'd prefer my pink jacket?”

“Unfortunately, I fear that would not be nearly long enough.”  He glanced meaningfully down at himself.  He was still very aroused; it was a wonder he'd even been able to zip himself back into his pants.  He was really going to have to consider a change of wardrobe whenever he was around her, or he'd be spending half of his life in a state of supreme discomfort.

A small grin quirked Anzu's lips.  “Are you sure you'll … be okay to walk home?”

He took a deep breath and released it, turning to gaze into her eyes.  “Honestly, I would rather stay.  I would much rather take you to your room and—”  He cut himself off with a shake of his head.  “If I don't leave now, it's exactly where we'll end up.  My self-control is quite frazzled as it is, and Yugi's … encouragement is far from helping.”  He bit back a groan as his other half impishly supplied him with the thoroughly stimulating image of Anzu on her knees between his legs, her head bobbing up and down in his lap as she enthusiastically suckled him.  His pants were becoming increasingly constricting; it really was going to be a long and uncomfortable walk back.  Keep that up, he silently growled, and I'll make you do the walking!

Yugi chortled.

“So … I guess I'll be seeing you around then.  Both of you, I mean.”  Anzu couldn't hide her disappointment at his impending departure.  Not that she bothered to try.

“There will be other chances,” he murmured, his voice as deep and enigmatic as his eyes had ever been.  He reached out to caress her face softly.  “Don't worry.  We won't keep you waiting for too long.”  His smile was dark with sensual promise, making her shiver with anticipation.  He stepped out into the chilly night, his overheated breath immediately frosting the air in a great cloud of white, and turned to cast one last, longing glance back at the young woman who had come to mean so much to him in such a short amount of time.  “We’ll see you soon, Anzu,” he murmured, bowing slightly before turning to stride briskly away into the night.  “Very soon.”
Within his mind, Yugi wholeheartedly agreed.