The Encounters of Ice and Flames

Reyna thrust open the door to her apartment, unceremoniously discarding her body in the waiting arms of her couch. A deep sigh gushed from her lips as she buried her head beneath the throw pillows reflecting on her first day as the secretary of Seto Kaiba.
She had been early, bustling alertly about while the seasoned workers drug themselves into the office bleary-eyed and zombie-like. She had made a pot of hot coffee, figuring that her new boss would be craving the strong liquid. She tucked a copy of the Wall Street Journal on the corner of her desk, not caring that her actions were blatant ingratiation, which had worked beautifully. Kaiba had strode in as she was neatly arranging her office space to her liking, dropped a slip of paper onto her desk dictating the username and password to her system, snatched both The Journal and a mug of coffee before storming into his seclusion, slamming the door in his wake. She had smiled to herself, stretching her long body comfortably in her chair.
But that was the only thing that had occurred in accordance with her plan. The remainder of the day was spent answering phone calls, deeming which ones were important enough to pass to her boss, and if she misjudged the importance of one, he would rant, rave, and, on the rare occasion that it really was someone that he did not want to know still existed, throw readily available objects at her. He had never managed to hit her, but she suspected that he was not trying to. Several employees timidly stepped off the elevator, looking extremely relieved that they could give their reports to her to pass along as opposed to directly handing it to the dragon master himself.
By lunch time, she was exhausted but was determinedly enduring every bit of torture the job was casting her direction. She never had the opportunity to dine, for the phone seemed to never cease its shrill ringing, and Kaiba refused to leave the confines of his office. She lost count of the number of cups of coffee she consumed, but she knew that she made three pots. Occasionally she would take another mug in to Kaiba, who grunted an inaudible reply, presumably of thanks. She had been growled at on more than one occasion during the day. She could see the shift in his demeanor slowly progressing during the course of the afternoon. He had been annoyed when the day started, shifting to angry toward noon, and finally, as five o’clock began to draw nearer, he managed to combine the two, resulting in an extremely disagreeable, difficult to cope with male. Reyna’s day extended into the seventh hour of the afternoon before she finally admitted defeat. She politely knocked on Kaiba’s door, poking her head through the small opening.
“You’re still here?” he questioned, not bothering to hide his amazement.
“Your phone is still constantly ringing, but I’m sorry, sir, I really need to go home. Is there anything else that you need me to do?”
“No,” he curtly replied returning to his computer, sighing as he heard the door return to its shut position. He leaned back in his chair, wondering if he would see the young woman again tomorrow.
As Reyna lay motionless on her couch, she wondered whether the exceptional pay was worth the suffering and torture.
~One month later~
Reyna was lounging on her couch after yet another very long day at the office. True she had elected to continue her sadistic occupation, causing a large string of headaches to ensue, but she knew her bank account truly enjoyed the finer points of her job. It had actually become much easier to cope with the adverse encounters of Kaiba and the demanding business heads as they trampled her in order to obtain a moment of the young CEO’s time. She was learning to be overly aggressive and firm, even in the face of the most prominent head. Kaiba supported her if it allowed him the luxury of a few moments of quiet.
Her phone rang, causing her to unconsciously grimace; her hands now snatching the phone as perfunctorily as the receptionist she had encountered on her interview date. Her mind questioned the identity of the caller, since she had not been feeding her once blossoming social life. There were only a select few that even obtained her new number, but none had ever called. Warily, she questioned, “Hello?”
“Hellooo, Mustang,” a slurred, familiar voice greeted.
The girls eyes widened, mouth being overtaken by the force of gravity, creating a gaping cavern. “Mr. Kaiba?!?!”
“That’s me,” he replied, voice light, almost silly. “I need you to come to my house. Now.”
“Um, Mr. Kaiba, are you drunk?”
“Nooooo…”
“Sir?”
“I swear to drunk, I’m not god. I just need you….”
“I beg you pardon?
“… to review stuff.”
“All right, Mr. Kaiba, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Thank ye, thank ye, my fair maiden.”
She hesitantly replaced the appliance on the cradle, eyes contorted in confusion and disturbance. Kaiba was indeed extremely creepy when he was drunk.

She arrived at the Kaiba mansion looking slightly disheveled in her haste to look acceptable. By business standards, there were women on street corners in downtown Domino more acceptably attired than her. She had rummaged about her unkempt apartment, tossing mountains of soiled garments to the way side, opting for a wrinkled pair of navy yoga pants. Her white tank top was equally if not more furrowed. Her hair loosely hung kinked from her day bun, face devoid of all cosmetic products. She consciously fidgeted with the state of her garments, smoothing the material in vain, as she knocked lightly on the door, her mind praying that Kaiba had passed out somewhere in the mansion. To her disappointment, the door opened, revealing a petrified maid. The maid eyed the woman for a moment, cringing at the appearance of her clothes, before almost crying in joy as she identified the visitor.
“Oh! Thank goodness you have come! He’s been a raving lunatic for the past hour! He keeps asking for you, but forgets it seconds later! Take these!” the maid exclaimed, thrusting at least a dozen sets of keys into her unwilling hands. “Do not let him get his hands on these! He’s all yours!”
With that, the maid weaseled her way past the stunned secretary, sprinting down the steps and sloping lawn. Reyna watched in a stupor as the woman desperately fled from the premises. /Could he really be that bad?/ she thought, redirecting her gaze to the myriad of keys barely contained in her two hands. /Good idea./ She sighed, traipsing into the entryway, snapping the door shut. The sounds echoed loudly, and she looked around to see if a living soul had heard the noise. There was silence for several moments before and inaudible yelling commenced, resonating from somewhere in the upper floors. Unenthusiastically, she drug her protesting feet to the spiral stairwell, exerting even more effort to climb to the top. The yelling was persisting, effectively aiding her in the search of the source. She stopped outside of a large white door on the third floor hallway, bracing herself for the sight that might extend its welcome to her. Her hand shakily touched the doorknob, turning it slightly, clenching her jaw. Her nerve failed her then, so she stood like that for several moments before she felt the door being cleaved from her clutch.
“Hiya, Mustang!”
“Oh boy,” was all she could as she took in the man’s appearance.
His hair was sticking up in random intervals, and others were plastered to his forehead. His tie was tossed across his shoulder, still securely fastened around his neck. All the buttons on his dress shirt were open, leaving his leanly muscled torso exposed to her sight. She had to shake her head slightly to draw attention away from the sight, allowing it to immediately refocus on the nearly empty bottle of liquor clutched loosely in his right palm. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words failed their release miserably when he took a pace forward, stumbling as he did so. His body’s mass collided heavily with her own.
“You smell good, Mudstang,” he slurred.
“Mudstang, sir?”
“Yeah, I do dub thee Mudstang.”
“Where’s your bedroom, sir?”
“Ohhhh, Mudstang! What are you planning?”
“To put you to bed so you can sleep off the goofy side effects and wake up your perfectly miserable, hung-over self. I truly hope that you don’t remember anything tomorrow because I do not want to be on the receiving end of your anger.”
“Haha, I like you too much for that, Mudstang.”
“I’ll remind you that you said that the next time that you throw something at me. Now, where’s your bedroom?”
“Second floor, fourth door on the left.”
/Great, I have to lug this useless hunk of man down the steps./ She grasped the man’s thin waist tightly, awkwardly limping out of the confines of his personal office. Kaiba’s head lolled to the side, banging lightly against hers. She was in disbelief that her boss would act like this at any point in his life, intoxicated beyond rational thinking levels or not. She sighed heavily, feeling an indescribable responsibility for his well being. She disregarded the feeling, concentrating solely on the task at hand.
He gave her barely intelligible directions to his room. She was astonished that she had delivered the CEO to his room without tripping or introducing her face with the marble floor of the stairs. He was uncharacteristically attempting to assist her in every way he was capable of, but those were limited in number, mainly concentrating to the ability of the mouth. His directions proved to be a trying translating project. She was visibly pleased that she arrived at the entrance to his chamber and incredibly dazed as Kaiba tugged her into the room.
She was taken aback by the décor of the chamber. The walls were bathed in a cerulean shade, sealed top and bottom in luminescent white. Numerous paintings of snarling dragons adorned the sides, the largest and most impressive situated above the bed, protecting the cradle’s occupants at their most vulnerable time. She recognized the subject as Duel Monster’s Blue Eyes White Dragon, nearly smacking her cranium as she recalled her boss’s favorite card. Other than the depictions of the beasts, there were no other photographs in the room, no personal mementos. In fact, the chamber was devoid of much else, the only other pieces of furniture being a desk and an office chair by the window. The moonlight poured uncontrollably through the monstrous windowpane, bathing the area in an angelic tone. It was immediately overpowered by artificial light as she flicked the switch. She noticed a door, cleaved open a fraction to reveal black, smooth tile and countertops.
“Hey, Mudstang,” Kaiba started, voice wavering in a new uncertainty. “I don’t feel so hot.”
She blanched. “Let’s get you out of your business clothes. Those are probably dry clean only.”
“Hey, now,” he began again, hands tugging the material of shirt. “Don’t think that I’m not on to you.”
“Sir,” she almost growled, batting his hands away from the shirt, hers taking their place. “Allow me before you choke yourself trying to get that tie off.”
“You know, you could take a lot of advantage from this… Here I be, drunk out of my mind, practically hitting on you, and no way of stopping myself. You could have me anyway you wanted…”
“Sir, you should be more worried about me blackmailing you when this is over. Besides, drunkenness is not a turn on.”
He laughed, causing her head to snap to attention. Her eyes widened even more when she noticed a genuine smile playing across his lips. He looked very handsome like that, at ease and carefree, even if there were bums on the street in better mental shape than him at the moment. Her mind could not recall the arrogant jerk that had tested her patience that morning. He seemed so natural, so normal, but the putrid stench of alcohol disrupted the moment. His brows furrowed, mouth clenching tightly. Her orbs widened a bit more.
“Muds…”
“I know, sir. Get into the bathroom, and try not to blow chunks all over the place.”
“No promises,” he gasped out attempting to sprint into the said room.
Reyna supported him, cushioning him as his knees gave out. Kaiba was able to sustain his position bowing over the porcelain goddess. Moments later, retching sounds echoed through the lavatory, and she turned away from the fallen man as he put on a vulnerable display. She did not understand why she was here. He certainly was too far intoxicated to remember half of the events that night, but still here she was, in her boss’s bathroom, listening as he emptied the content of his stomach. The sounds ceased, but there was no movement to suggest he was making a move to rise. She turned to face him, finding that he had moved to sitting position by the toilet. She moved over, pulling him to an upright stance. The pair limped back into the main room.
“Shite,” Kaiba swore, staring down at his expensive black pants, now slightly splattered with excretions.
“Let’s get you out of these and into something that you can sleep in.”
“I can do it!”
She stood, eyebrow quirked in amusement, watching the grown man as he protested in the same manner as a three-year old would. After several minutes of useless fumbling, “Ok, I could us some help,” he whispered. She was still smirking lightly as she assisted him. There was a pair of black silk pajamas lying neatly folded on the bed. She took the liberty of pulling the material over his broad shoulder, hands sliding over his masculine chest. The image of her shoving him against the wall, her tongue dominating him, her handcuffing him to the bed, and doing other things that she should not be imagining herself doing to her boss came crashing through her conscious. She took a deep, steadying breath, clearing her mind of the erotic impulses that she was receiving.
“You’d better get to bed, sir. Tomorrow you have a meeting first thing,” she breathed shakily, praying that he would not notice.
“Coool… hey, Mudstang, are you going be here in the morn?”
“No, sir, I won’t.”
“But, but, but who will take care of me and my hang over?”
“I’ll set everything up for you, and there are maids that can do that better than myself. Oh, by the way, I have about twelve of your car keys then, so remind me to return those.”
“Hehe, I don’t care if you take one out for a spin, Muds. Maybe sometime we can take a spin in one together in the backseat.”
“Goodnight, sir,” she curtly replied, ignoring the wiggling eyebrows.
“Night, night, Muds.”
He rolled onto his, pulling the covers about his masculine body, drifting peacefully into a sleep. She sighed heavily, setting about the task preparing everything. She filled a small glass of water, placing two liquid capsules by it to be taken in the morning. She selected a very nice Armani grey suit with a shocking blue dress shirt, neatly piling everything in a folded manner before depositing a silver tie on top. She doused every light she could find, drawing the curtains shut on the windows. With one last glance at the slumbering form, nestled snugly into his bed, she swept out the door, nearly yelping in surprise when she came face-to-face with a teenager.
“Who are you?” the boy asked, cocking his head slightly to the side.
“My name is Reyna Mustang. I’m your brother’s new secretary.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. You actually came out here. Most of them stay home, and he never remembers that he even called them. I’m glad you came: less mess for me to clean up.”
“He does this a lot?”
“A fair amount. Personally, I like because he actually seems human when he’s plastered, but somehow I get the feeling that you already knew that.”
“Yeah. I have to go home. I need some sleep.”
“Thanks for taking care of him,” the teenager called out, long, shaggy midnight hair flipping behind his shoulder.
Reyna nodded before disappearing into the darkness.