Chapter Text
Turnabout's fair play, I guess, Ryou thinks wryly. He bites his lip to keep his expression neutral as he regards the man currently stomping off his shoes in the engawa.
"–hate snow," Bakhure declares, kicking the offending items off. Ryou'll probably circle back to put his shoes aside more neatly later.
All through the summer, Bakhure had guffawed at Ryou for laying starfished on the floor with a fan pointed at him, and eating popsicles with his hair pinned up off his neck. Had brazenly strolled around the house doing physical activity in little more than a pair of shorts and his ego.
Now Bakhure looks like a nesting doll bundled up in his winterwear. He tugs off his gloves and scarf irritably, tossing them in the direction of the coat hooks–
–and then hisses and starts cussing in Kemetic as his socked foot lands directly in a puddle of slush.
Ryou can't help it; he starts giggling, smothering it down behind his hands and turning towards the kitchen in hopes the grumpy man won't see. "Oh, it's not so bad," he tries to placate as he fetches a couple of mugs out of the cabinet and gets the electric kettle going.
"Not bad?" Bakhure barks back in affront. He stomps after the other boy barefoot once he's divested himself of his hat, earmuffs, and the now-wet socks. "There isn't a single good thing about this– this meteorological curse!"
Ooh, big word. Guess he found the weather channel, Ryou muses. He puts a teabag into each of the mugs and then turns, startling when he bumps directly into Bakhure's chest.
"Th-there is," Ryou protests meekly, hands automatically lifting to press against the slick, quilted front of his puffy coat. Bakhure's nose and cheeks are dusted a slightly darker bronze than his normal complexion, and he's scowling fiercely. "Snowmen are fun."
"Fun. You also think summoning demons is fun," the shorter man counters disdainfully. Ryou laughs in surprise before he can stop it, batting a hand against his chest.
"Fair enough. Other people think it's fun, too," he amends. Bakhure's smirking, a wry quirk to one side of his mouth as he steps out of Ryou's way. While Ryou pours the hot water for their tea, the other man finally starts unbundling from of his coat, shrugging out of the sleeves and tossing it rather unceremoniously over the back of a chair.
"Other people," he repeats under his breath. "Other people are out of their minds."
His grumbling quiets when Ryou pushes one of the steaming mugs at him. He wrinkles his nose as he accepts it. "Peppermint?"
"Mm. I already added some honey," Ryou smiles, taking a tentative sip of his own tea. The milk cooled it just enough to drink, and it warms him the whole way down. Bakhure would have to wait for his to cool the old-fashioned way, given his lactose intolerance; that, or drink it hot and pretend not to burn his tongue.
Bakhure doesn't even taste his tea before he's shuffling around Ryou to pour more honey into it, making the other boy roll his eyes fondly. "If it wasn't going to be dark in an hour, I'd say we ought to go out and make ourselves a snowman," he laments, meandering back into the living area. Not that he particularly wants to venture back outside, but the sentiment stands.
Now that they're done shopping, they can settle in and relax for the evening. Yugi and the gang's Christmas party isn't for another week, and besides, Mokuba had talked his brother into hosting the gathering at the Kaiba manor. All they had to do was show up with presents and food and good cheer in hand.
…And not 'wreck the place'.
The other man follows shortly, spoon clinking against his mug as he stirs in the (frankly atrocious) amount of honey he added.
"Are you deaf? I'm not going back out there unless the house catches fire," Bakhure protests. He insinuates himself next to Ryou on the couch, close enough to bump shoulders and thighs, and then scoots in even closer once they've set down their tea.
Once upon a time, this sort of physical proximity– Bakhure crowding himself against Ryou, slinking an arm around behind him to keep him close– would have made Ryou's heart stutter with fear. Terror. The tense expectation of, of… something not good.
Separating the man who'd been controlled by Zorc for three thousand years from the one in front of him now had taken a great while.
Now, Ryou just twitches faintly in surprise before relaxing–
–And then yelps as cold, cold fingers suddenly worm themselves under his sweater. " 'Kura!" he shrieks, squirming and shoving at him to try to escape the icy digits greedily pressed against his side. "Stop, that's coooooold!"
"That's what I've been telling you," Bakhure crows, unmoved by his protesting. Ryou's breath catches with a high squeal as his sweater is rucked up, tipping sideways onto the couch with the shorter man eagerly giving chase. "It's bloody cold outside, isn't it?"
Ryou grabs at the hem of his sweater and tries to force it back down, only for Bakhure to hitch himself up onto his knees on the couch– the better to bracket Ryou in between his thighs and start wiggling his frigid fingers.
The reaction is instantaneous. Ryou jerks away, flailing and trying to escape the onslaught. "Noo-ooo, ahaha–! Stop, stop!!"
"Not until you admit that snow is awful!" The shorter man demands, a wicked, wicked gleam in his eyes.
" 'Kuraaaa!"
Being the merciful former-king he is, Bakhure stops digging against Ryou's sides just long enough to let him catch his breath, grinning fiendishly. "Or," he starts after a moment, pitching his voice lower, "I know a way we could warm up."
"We're already… warming up," Ryou protests, still panting a little after being assaulted with tickles. His cheeks are flushed, and when Bakhure moves he flinches, expecting more.
Which means he's caught utterly off-guard when, instead of continuing his tickling attack, Bakhure stretches himself over Ryou like a cat and nuzzles against his neck.
His nose is just as cold.
"Come now, yadonushi, let me warm myself with your body," the thief croons, splaying his hands out over Ryou's ribs and gliding them up, palms flat, until the sweater starts to bunch up under his armpits.
Ryou's shiver has little to do with the cold. "You're a menace," he mumbles, flushing, as Bakhure starts mouthing at his neck with a smug little snicker.
They end up having to microwave their tea, long gone tepid by the time they pick up their mugs again.
—
Elsewhere in Domino…
Yugi Mutou pursed his lips and considered the playing field, frown deepening. It had been a long and hard-fought game, and now… it all came down to this one move.
He took a breath.
"Here goes," Yugi announces, giving the dice a little shake before loosing them. Two sets of eyes watch them bounce across the game board with baited breath.
Double fives.
Yugi whoops and grabs his game piece while Atem lets out a sigh through his nose. When he's done, Yugi's little bowler hat is sitting pretty on a Chance square, directly in between two properties that had been meticulously built up into hotel complexes.
"You may have weaseled your way out this time, but there is still the Boardwalk section," Atem says wryly as he waits for Yugi to pick up a card and reveal his fortune. Before he can, though, a timer starts going off.
Yugi brightens immediately. "Oh, the cookies!" he exclaims, and then both boys are getting up to head into the kitchen, instead of continuing their game.
Atem turns off the little digital clock and starts opening the oven while Yugi grabs an oven mitt. The smell of sweet, sugary joy wafts up along with the heat, making the older boy lean his head back and hum appreciatively. "They smell done."
Yugi sidles up next to his partner to peer into the oven with him, eyeing the corners of the cookies. Then he nods. "Yeah, those look right. Let's take them out!"
Atem stands aside to let his partner fetch the cookies– after a rather unfortunate incident in which the former pharaoh attempted to remove a tray with only a dishtowel protecting his hands, he's been banned from anything more than helping with things that require cooking in the oven.
(In fairness, Yugi had neglected to warn him about how hot it would be. When Atem professed a level of kitchen proficiency, neither of them thought about the difference between a fire-heated oven and a modern one apart from how to use the dials.)
When the tray is safely set upon a cooling pad on the counter, the bronze-skinned teen moves in close again, inhaling appreciatively. Yugi flips the oven off and hangs the mitt back up before joining him, slotting against the other boy's side with a smile. "They have to cool down," he reminds Atem.
"I know."
He doesn't move for another beat, so Yugi teases, "C'mon, they won't cool off any faster with us watching. Do you wanna finish our game?"
That gets a nod and a grin from the former pharaoh. Even after spending several thousand years stuck in a puzzle, and then having to save the world a couple times via high-stakes duels and life-or-death games, the teen still loved just about any form of gaming. It was kinda admirable.
Before they can resume their positions around the Monopoly board, though, something catches Atem's attention. Yugi blinks up at him, halfway sat down, as the other boy suddenly pivots for the windows. "Aibou! Look!" he calls.
Yugi joins him a moment later and sees what the fuss is about. "Oh," he breathes, taking in the sight.
It's snowing.
For a moment neither of them speak, just watching the thick, fluffy snowflakes descend upon the city. It'd snowed last night and this morning too, so the ground is already coated in a white blanket, painting the scene in a serene ambiance.
Eventually, Atem's reverie breaks into excitement. "May we postpone our game a little longer?" he grins.
Yugi returns the expression, taking in the way his partner's eyes practically sparkle with wonder. Personally, he'd rather enjoy the snow from in here– maybe with some hot cocoa and a fire– but they can always do that after.
Besides, who could say no to that look?
"Sure! You wanna try building a snowman? I think there might be enough on the ground now."
"Absolutely!"
—
It's nearly dark out by the time Yugi convinces Atem to stop 'sculpting'. "They're perfect," he laughs, taking the other boy's mitted hand in his own. There are two somewhat diminutive snowmen in the yard now; one slightly taller than the other, with sticks over his stone eyes to indicate a look of fierce determination. The little one has a shy smile and bigger rock eyes, but both of them have star-shaped heads– which Atem had been carefully shaping and fussing over for the last half hour.
They're also holding stick-hands.
"C'mon, Tem, it's gonna get a lot colder once the sun's down," Yugi encourages, tugging him along. "And we still have cookies to decorate!"
That draws the taller boy's interest away from his snow creations. "Of course! And I still have rent to collect from you," he reminds Yugi, prompting him to gently hip-check Atem.
"No way, I'm going to make a comeback," he insists, sniffling indignantly. His cheeks and nose are bright red from the chill, where Atem looks just as perfect as always. How does he manage that?
Atem just chuckles, squeezing his hand through their mittens as they start crunching their way back to the house. "We shall see."
They head inside and start stripping off snow-caked boots, and the sudden warmth almost stings against his face, making Yugi shiver. The former pharaoh glances over with a hint of concern, which he brushes off with a grin. "Just chilly."
"It is rather cold," Atem agrees. When Yugi looks up from taking off his boots, he's already hanging both their coats on the rack, making his heart warm in a way that has nothing to do with being back inside.
"Thanks," he mumbles, rubbing his bare hands together for warmth.
Atem finishes divesting himself of his scarf– a handknit gift, courtesy of Anzu– and starts heading into the kitchen with a decisive declaration of, "Hot cocoa."
"But, the cookies," Yugi trails after him in confusion. He's not opposed to cocoa, of course, but…
"You cannot decorate with frozen fingers," Atem elaborates as he pulls the box of instant cocoa out of the pantry.
Well. Can't argue with that– not when another compulsive shiver twitches through him before he can voice his agreement. Yugi gives him a rueful shrug and moves to fetch the mugs, giggling and ducking his head when the taller boy steals a quick kiss on his way by.
—
The smell of sugar and chocolate soon permeates the whole kitchen, and by the time they've finished icing, piping, and liberally covering their cookie creations in sprinkles, Yugi's starting to nod his head. It'd been a jam-packed day of holiday preparations; picking up a few last-minute gifts, an impromptu stop at the ice skating rink that'd been set up in the shopping plaza (Atem's natural prowess in physical activity is just unfair), wrapping said presents and then starting on the box mix of sugar cookies.
Oh, and the snowmen, Yugi reminds himself as they carefully stack the cookie containers in the fridge. Atem gets them arranged just so and closes the fridge with a little flourish. "Perfect. Now, aibou, I believe we have a score to settle," he declares, heading back into the living room. "Shall we put on another 'holiday special' as I strip you of your property assets?"
When there's no immediate quip back, Atem turns to look at Yugi curiously. The shorter boy's leaning against the entrance to the kitchen and yawning, eyes scrunched shut. There's still a little smear of blue frosting across his cheek, despite their efforts to not make too big a mess.
He's also drooping like the boughs of a snow-covered pine.
Atem's gaze softens. "Ah. I suppose our game can be postponed to tomorrow," he amends. Yugi gives himself a little shake, as if he could divest himself of his sleepiness.
"No, I'll be… fine," he protests even as he tries to smother another yawn, completely undermining the assertion.
Gods above, he's adorable.
"Mmm, but I won't. I'll not be satisfied with a victory, knowing my opponent was not at their best," he chides, moving to get the lights. Without the overhead, the living room falls into a comfortable gloomy, with the streetlight outside and the warm glow of the Christmas tree giving just enough light to see by.
Yugi makes another noise of argument, but Atem won't have it. He takes his partner by the hand and draws him along up the stairs to their room. "But… You wanted to do more Chri'mas stuff…"
"And we shall. The event itself is still several days away."
Mollified, Yugi finally lets himself succumb to another big, stretching yawn. Atem's first Christmas as himself– in his own body, not just sharing Yugi's– was a big deal. He wanted to make sure Atem got to experience everything.
It's more kindness than the former pharaoh deserves, surely, but then he thinks that often about the warm, wonderful person that is his partner. His light.
His Yugi.
They get changed into their pajamas and then tuck in under the blankets together in a contented, hazy silence. Yugi curls himself under Atem's chin and sniffles sleepily. "Night, 'Tem," he murmurs. For all his protesting, he's already half-asleep.
Atem carefully smooths some of the other boy's spikes away from his face and smiles. "Goodnight, aibou."