I Don't Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

 

It was unsettling to see his rival like this.



His... former rival. In no way it would feel fair to fight the man in his current state of mind.



“Kaiba,” Joey called out, to draw the man from his trance.



It didn’t work immediately. Kaiba’s eyes first regained their focus. He kept them glued to the floor, blinking a few times.



“What are you looking at,” Joey inquired, lowering his hand, the one holding the paper, onto his lap.



Kaiba shot him one of those looks that was meant to discredit his interlocutors, as if Joey had just asked something stupid. The blond merely shrugged.



“What are we going to do with this?”



“I’ll type it up-” Kaiba coughed the creakiness off his voice “-and make a few adjustments.”



“No.”



Kaiba narrowed his eyes dubiously, nonetheless inviting Joey to speak through silence.



"It's a pain coming to this part of town, you know that?"

Joey snickered.



“What’s so funny,” Kaiba asked dryly.



“Nothing. It’s just that I said the exact same thing to your maid.”



“Clarissa.”



“That’s her name?”



“Of my Head of Housekeeping, yes.”



“Oh.” Joey once hypothesized that cold hearted Kaiba would force his employees to renounce their names and tattoo a serial number on their napes. Funny how this idea wasn’t so... funny anymore. The man before him didn’t strike Joey as the cool, calculating person he once was to him. There was a human behind that facade, and in that human, perhaps, a heart. One whose designs were locked away in a secure place.



He drank in the slightly feeble Kaiba sitting in front of him. Images of his frail upper body, his pallid skin invaded his mind, and Joey made sense of them like a collage. They matched the man in front of him perfectly. How he hadn’t reconciled the two Kaibas earlier shocked him.



An unexpected wave of compassion washed over Joey. And perhaps, because of that peculiar state of mind, he sensed that a breach appeared between himself and Kaiba, like a tumultuous sea was parting for a brief moment.



Joey wanted to seize that chance.



“You know, I used to think you were an asshole,” he blurted out.



“What makes you think I care about your thoughts on the matter?” As always, Kaiba’s replies were brisk, quick, and to the point. The ‘sea between them’ was parted no more, but Joey wanted to ride his wave a little longer.



“Because you let me in. To this,” he added, pointing to the yellow file.



A second later, Kaiba was up and stalking to his desk.



Joey stayed behind with the fragments of Kaiba’s childhood exposed. He arranged them somewhat neatly into the file, setting the ‘Catcher in the Rye’ essay aside.



“Come,” commanded Kaiba impatiently. “If you’re going to complain that I make you waste your time, might as well put that primitive brain of yours to work.”



“Prick,” Joey retorted, but he stood up and followed Kaiba anyway.



“Bring the essay,” Kaiba added without looking at Joey.



“I’ve got it, what did you think. I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”



Kaiba, already seated in his swivel chair, swung around to look at the blond nearing him. he tilted his head to the side, lowered his gaze, and opened his mouth as if to retract himself.



But that was the moment Joey chose to hitch himself up on Kaiba’s desk.



Kaiba’s lips sealed themselves. He frowned.



Joey got off and retreated to the corner of the desk. Standing on his left leg, he rested his right hip on the hard surface. He didn’t want to just hang around like an idiot while Kaiba had his own seat, nor did he want to kneel or sit on the ground or something humiliating like that. He didn’t know what amazed him the most; that Kaiba didn’t have the decency to bring his guest a chair, that he perhaps didn’t have such one extra chair to lend him, or that he let Joey get away with half-sitting on his work desk.



“I don’t have all night.”



“Excuse me?”



“Is this the moment you tell me you’re illiterate?” Kaiba asked derisively.



“Oh fuck you, Shakespeare,” Joey said without conviction, more for good measure than to really come at Kaiba. “Why were you even writing these anyway,” he continued. “I don’t know about you, but I had better things to do with my time, when I was ten, than to write essays on Shakespeare or whatnot.”



Then it looked like Kaiba lost all interest for the human being next to him, clicking his mouse, squinting at the screen like he was alone in the room. When Joey exhausted, in his mind, the list of possible comebacks he could use to get out of this strange rut, Kaiba deigned address him again.



“It’s that thing they call ‘education’ you never really cared for,” Kaiba said in a distant voice.



“Okay, yeah well, whatever you say.” Joey gave up. These pointless micro-arguments were getting the best of him. Better not engage in Kaiba’s taunting.



Not caring felt surprisingly good.



From the corner of his eye, Joey saw - thought he saw - Kaiba’s shoulder droop a little. The tension between them vanished. But perhaps Joey was imagining things.



What a weird shape of thought to be in, Joey thought. Being near Kaiba wasn’t doing wonders for his own mental state.



Kaiba sat at attention.



When Joey opened his mouth to come up with, well, he wasn’t sure what exactly, anything to break the tension between them for good, Kaiba interrupted him.



“Just dictate - pardon me, please read the damn thing to me.”



“Hey I know what dictate means, okay? Plus, can’t you have a secretary type it for you? This is really a waste of time for me.” Joey wished he could master the art of not caring. Giving in to Kaiba’s anger really wasn’t helping.



“I’m not going to waste shareholder funds because you want to go to the arcade.”



“I work twenty, sometimes thirty hours a week. You can’t pull that shit on me. I won’t let you call me lazy.”



Kaiba’s eyebrows raised. The news seemed to have genuinely surprised him. Perhaps it was the finality in Joey’s voice.



Joey remembered the conversation he’d had with - well, that had been imposed upon by - his teacher.



“I’m just saying,” Joey started again, not so defensively this time, “I’m not all that fond of schoolwork and all, but we might as well try and come up with something new. I don’t really feel like I’ve achieved anything by doing this.”



Except maybe putting up with Kaiba, learning new strategies to put up with the prick. Kaiba 101. Heheh.



“It’ll educate you,” the prick said, smugly.



“I’m not here to get education from you. I’m already putting myself through school for that.”



“Schools don’t actually teach you anything. Everything I know I learned outside the education system.”



“Then why do you even bother...?” Joey asked, genuinely stumped.



Kaiba tsked at Joey, irritated. “Everything that could be said about that book has been said, and this,’ he pointed to the yellowish bundle of sheets, “has most of it. Just read it already.”



Joey sighed, unconvinced, and increasingly too tired to want to argue. Kaiba was playing this tug of war with him and neither of them seemed to know what was at stake for the winner.



“You can always reflect on it,” Kaiba amended, without looking up.



“Oh fuck you. Like I’m going to look up to something you wrote when you were ten.”



“Eight.”



“Same. Whatever. Why did you even do this?”



“Education,” Kaiba repeated stubbornly, quickly this time, putting an effective end to Joey’s questioning. “Real education.”



Joey tried to consider the meaning behind the words for a moment, then decided it’d be pointless to pry any further. He was more likely to be dissed by a deflecting Kaiba than to actually learn something from him. He licked his lips, took a deep breath, squinted and started reading.



Kaiba’s lithe fingers began tapping along, his right index waltzing on its own, as always.



The blond has no difficulty reading the child’s clear handwriting. Too perfect even, all the little ‘a’s and ‘t’s looking exactly the same. The faint light of the room made it difficult, and Kaiba turned the desk lamp on as if reading Joey’s mind, who uttered a silent thank you, wondering strangely if Kaiba would hear it, too.



Well, if he did, he gave no evidence of it.



Maybe he’d just uttered a silent you’re welcome. Joey had no idea, he was no mind reader. He was, though, brewing up a lot of nonsense right now.



Kaiba gave him an expectant look. ‘Well?’



“Oh, sorry, I’ll keep reading. Erm...”



Joey looked for the words on the page, focusing on the wraith-like remnants of childhood encased in each letter inscribed on the desiccated sheets.



Kaiba stole a glance at him. Joey caught it and his gaze met Kaiba’s, whose features had softened slightly.



After a stretching, three second long truce, Joey went on dictating.



He was always cautious to monitor his own reading speed, making appropriate pauses to give Kaiba a chance to catch up. The process was going smoothly when he flipped the page.



But instead of waiting to hear Kaiba’s typing stop, Joey found himself waiting for his repeated striking of the backspace key.



That twitching finger, no doubt, was ruining everything for him.



No wonder Kaiba had been behind schedule on Joey’s first visit.



And to think of the pride of the man, unwilling to blame his loss of productivity on this new handicap.



Joey wanted to say ‘sorry for pushing you, man, I didn’t know’. More like, ‘I should have known.’ He knew very well this apology - or any form of perceived pity on Kaiba’s part - wasn’t welcome.



So instead, he stated that “You should let me type, Kaiba.”



His suggestion was met with a scoff.



“No, really.”



“You don’t type, you hammer at the keys.” Clearly Kaiba wasn’t ready to relinquish his role. Being in charge of the machine made him feel like he had the upper hand.



“Whatever, it’ll be faster that way. You finger...” He stopped, not wanting to ruffle any feathers. He congratulated himself at how deft he’d become, perhaps from all those months being around the Prick Supreme, trying to fend his verbal and physical attacks.



Kaiba didn’t budge, unsure what course of action to take. To the oblivious onlooker, he appeared stoic, but a lack of reaction from Kaiba was a sign in itself to Joey. He jumped off the desk, stepped closer to Kaiba expectantly.



“Come on.”



And without further comment, Kaiba stood, making way for the blond who managed to hide his surprise.



It felt weird to sit in Kaiba’s ergonomic chair, to feel the warmth where the other man had sat not long ago.



Said man had now walked away to another corner of the room.



Really? Are we playing this game? Joey thought. Well, if he wanted to be like that, to be the child who quits the game when he sees he’s going to lose, might as well let him. Joey was going to be the better man and stay, because that was the honorable thing to do, and Joey couldn’t imagine leading his life along any other line of conduct.



Slowly, picking up four or five words from the sheet, Joey picked up where his team mate had left. He was going to curse his very, very short term memory when Kaiba came back, setting right next to him with a folding chair. Well well. What do we got here?



The hint of a smug... grin on Kaiba’s face?



An imagined one, perhaps, but one that made it impossible for Joey to get angry.



“I knew you were just being a dick,” Joey said casually, earning another of Kaiba’s blank faces that indicated he was seriously wondering what was going on. “No way Seto Kaiba could ever lack furniture,” he explained.



“You only had to ask.”



“Not my job to ask. You’re the host.” Joey risked a smile. “And a crappy one at that.”



“Only to you.”



Joey turned to look at Kaiba disbelievingly; no, amused, almost.



Was Kaiba making a pass at him? Joey’s heart rate went up.



“Okay.”



Bravo. Brilliant. What eloquence, Joseph Wheeler!



“Okay, um, your turn,” he asked Kaiba. “Get going, Mister... Literature.” The more anxious Joey grew, the lamer the insults. That much he’d learned about himself up to now.



He positioned his fingers on the keyboard, waiting for Kaiba to pick up the essay. No ruffling sound came. The dictation resumed. Each word was weighted, the rhythm was perfect, so that Joey never made Kaiba wait for him despite his relatively low typing speed. He was extremely careful not to make any mistakes, and had so far avoided the backspace key, sure its use would



Soon enough, they slid into a comfortable pattern. Kaiba’s voice was smooth and his enunciation, just right for the task at hand. Joey fell in synch Kaiba’s uncharacteristically low voice. He found himself listening to the man’s breath intakes, and then became aware of his own. He then tried to match their breathing, a thing he often did when he watched action movies, panting after a race or battle. Just a little quirk he thought no one else had.



And now he was applying it to the strangest of situations.



After having written out at least three pages worth of text, Joey turned to Kaiba to see how many pages they’d gone through. He’d almost lost track of it, too focused to hear the crinkle of paper being manipulated.



“Three pages and two lines,” Kaiba answered.



“No, look, that’s the first page still.” He pointed at the essay, laying flat on the table.



“I don’t need to read it.”



“What do you mean,” Joey asked stupidly, without trying to figure it out on his own.



“I wrote this,” stated Kaiba with finality.



“And?”



“I know everything there is to know about this text.”



“Sorry, I’m not following you,” he said with as little animosity as possible.



Then as Kaiba unfolded his arms (and uncrossed his legs; Joey couldn’t help but throw a glance in his crotch’s direction), Joey understood.



Kaiba knew it by heart.



“You mean you actually memorized this?”



“Not exactly.”



“Not exactly...?”



“Can’t you ever read between the lines, Wheeler?”



Kaiba’s terse impatience was punctuated with pleading. Almost. Maybe.



“I’ve writ- I’ve read this so many times. I thought I’d forgotten it, but it came back to my mind just now,” Kaiba calmly explained.



Joey stayed silent. Kaiba continued.



“Surely there’s a song you used to like, and you listened to it over and over again.”



Joey nodded.



“Same for me. If you will.” Kaiba’s tone, neither demeaning nor condescending, made it a bit more enjoyable for Joey to be in the room. Like a window had opened out of nowhere, giving a little bit of fresh air, and a little more room to breathe.



Room for dialogue, maybe. It seemed to be the emerging pattern between them; from fists and jibes, their relation now was defined by jibes and... Something else Joey didn’t have a word for just yet.



Not that he understood why, either.



“So...” Joey searched for the right words. “You learned this... Because you actually liked this?” He asked, not quite believing the theory he’d just put forth.



“Not quite,” answered Kaiba, leaning his (own) right elbow on the desk. “I can’t say I really enjoyed it. Even though it was better than the rest of what I had to do.”



“The rest...?”



“It felt like recess, if you will.”



“Re- what?” Joey didn’t try to hide his surprise.



Kaiba gave away an small, dispassionate smile.



“Recess. Yeah.” Kaiba sat back and let his gaze float around, looking like he was reminiscing something.



Joey didn’t particularly enjoy playing detective, but Kaiba must’ve been willing to disclose such private aspects of his life, albeit in a rather cryptical way.



“So you didn’t do that for fun.”



Kaiba thought for a moment. “Not in the sense you mean it,” he concluded.



“How do you know how I mean it,” Joey shot back, pretty proud of himself for once.



“How do you... I don’t know. Meaning I didn’t do it of my own initiative,” he admitted.



Joey decided he didn’t want to press any further.



“I’d say I envy you in a way, Joey Wheeler.”



What the… “You don’t envy me,” Joey scoffed.



“How do you know whether I envy you or not?”



“I know because... you don’t know me.”



“And yet I might know something that you don’t.”



“Know something that I don’t.” Great, Joey, parroting Kaiba certainly won’t make you look smarter. “Look, man, I’m trying to read between the lines, but I can’t.”



“I wished you would. You’re making this very difficult for me, mutt.”



“Oh fuck you and your mutt-”



Kaiba’s hand was on Joey’s knee. Just like that. And it sent a pleasant shiver run through the blond’s spine.



‘That’ finger began twitching again.



From the bright, concentrated light of the desk lamp, Joey could see Kaiba’s chest heaving in rapid, shallow strokes. He was staring hard at his guest, scrutinizing him almost, waiting for him to make his move.



But Joey’s brain stopped working.



Why am I here, Joey’s mind called out. What am I doing here. Why am I not running away? I should be running away by now.



Instead, he felt a gentle warmth creeping up to his groin. The contact on his thigh was not... unpleasant to him. Kaiba was either unaware of this, or was actually quite skilled at this ‘reading between the line’ thing he’d mentioned earlier on.



Kaiba’s touch lightened, grazing only against the fabric of Joey’s pants. He shifted to the edge of his chair



And that damn twitching finger was driving Joey crazy. He wanted nothing more than to swat it on the spot, like he would an insect.



So he did.



I hate the idea that part of you is... weak.



Kaiba’s hand initially tensed under his.



After a minute’s worth of Joey’s patience or maybe curiosity - the blond didn’t know himself - he allowed himself to relax under the blond’s hold.



And the shaking sensation stopped. Kaiba exhaled, a burden coming visibly off his shoulders.



Joey waited, parting his lips to speak, only to close them again when he realized what he wanted to ask was what he should be doing next.



What do you expect me to do, Kaiba?



Not once taking his eyes off Joey’s, Kaiba slid off his chair.



He fell to his knees with a light thud.



Without realizing, Joey moved his legs apart to make room for him. Kaiba was kneeling before him. His heart rate sped up imperceptibly.



Kaiba now kept his gaze low, not meeting Joey’s. His left hand came resting on Joey’s other thigh, as gently as before.



Then he sat back on his ankles, resting his forehead against Joey’s knee.



The blond contemplated the bizarre scene he was a part of, unable to move. Or rather, unwilling to move. This was the man who wouldn’t be seen in any kind of vulnerable position. This was the man who didn’t pull his punches on Joey.



He was also somehow letting Joey in his own secret garden, one grass blade at a time.



Kaiba’s breathing became labored again. He freed his hand from Joey’s, lifting it heavily, making it creep further up Joey’s thigh. And Joey watched himself being molested, fascinated. The warmth spread to his loins.



This was more than simply arousing on a sexual level. This wasn’t about Joey’s body reacting to stimuli.



There was something intimate about this on an emotional level. But he didn’t quite put it in those words. Not yet.



Seto paused, looked up at Joey, who realized a minute too late he’d been tacitly asking for permission to move on. Joey also realized a minute too late he’d been letting Kaiba’s fingers crawl all the way to his own crotch.



“Wait.” No, this wasn’t about waiting. Waiting implied resuming, and no funny business was happening between himself and Kaiba. He’d been puzzled by the strange behavior of the man, and perhaps lost much of his will to confront him, but he had to draw a line. As compelling as it was, it wasn’t in the natural order of things for Seto Kaiba to kneel before Joey Wheeler.



“You’re asking for a lot here.” Jesus! How could he sound so sure of himself? He'd never been so confused in his whole life.



Kaiba might have stopped breathing.



“I’m not... into that kind of thing, Kaiba.” The words kept slipping out of their own volition, before they could be veto'ed by his brain or - or balls, and Joey knew they would have.

He wondered why he was actively trying to soften the blow of rejection. The conscious part of his brain hadn’t processed that one, he was rejecting and Kaiba and that two, Kaiba was asking for something in the first place. Not merely taking.



Joey gently pried Kaiba’s hands off his lap and used his legs to push himself back, rolling the swivel chair away from his its dejected owner. The blond stood up, stayed silent a few minutes, and walked around the kneeling man, still as a statue.



“Good night, Kaiba.”

He left, as quietly as he could. 

 

---

I (don’t) know why the caged bird sings

(chapter four)



Thank you for waiting for me, readers, I hope you’re still following along, and every one of your reviews, PMs, or alerts make my days a little brighter. (thank you, unneeded!)



Yours truly,



Milly