A/N: I went to Las Vegas with my family over winter break. During our stay, I was struck with an interesting revelation. Yami would find great pleasure in casino games, right? With his luck, he would probably make the casino go bankrupt. XD
Right now, I really don't know what I'm going to do with the pairings. I think I might just mix and match to my heart's content… XP I mean, it's Las Vegas! Las Vegas is not known for its fidelity. But, of course, if you want to see a particular pairing, please tell me!
I named the casino Pharaoh's Palace because I just love the exotic innuendo of it. It's also a Yahoo! Group that I'm in, just if anyone wanted to know.
Whatever Happens Here, Stays Here
Chapter 1: Welcome to Pharaoh's Palace
By LilPurplFlwr
A wandering pair of dark brown eyes swept the typically smoke-hazed casino. The relaxing twenty-four year old Black Jack dealer swirled the chilled amber liquid within the clear cup before taking a sip.
"Looks like a newbie's in town."
Standing behind the counter with a damp rag, another young man of the same age was giving more attention to cleaning several previously used glasses than paying attention to his friend.
"What makes you say that?" the blonde behind the counter asked absentmindedly.
"Stop wiping those shot glasses for a moment, idiot."
With a sigh, Malik Ishtar dried his hands on the towel hung by the sink. He pulled out three wine glasses and scrutinized the bottles lined up beneath the countertop. Rolling up his disobedient sleeves, he uncorked four bottles and set his mind to making the drinks the customers had asked for. The waitress stood nearby, enjoying the extra time the blonde was taking in order to snatch a little break between the fast-paced job.
"Bakura, sweetheart," Malik said in a voice that dripped with honey as he concentrated on pouring, "Unlike you, who is on his break and getting drunk at the same time, I can multitask in more constructive ways."
He could just feel the glare pinned on him. Malik finished quickly and placed the three drinks on the serving plate and nodded to the waitress, who gave a tired huff and plastered a bright smile as she picked up the tray and headed back into the midst of the noisy casino.
"I am not getting drunk," Bakura placed his cup down with a determined appearance, "Just kidding. I lied." Bakura took another deep swallow of alcohol.
Malik chuckled lightly and leaned onto the counter, resting on his elbows. "So tell me, what's so marvelously interesting about this new guy? But, you know, just ignoring the fact that you jump on anything that moves."
"Please," Bakura shot his friend an injured look, taking no discomfort that their faces were centimeters apart, "Give me a little credit here."
"I'm guessing he's our age. Can't be less than twenty-one if he's wandering casinos…" Malik's unique lavender eyes studied the busy scenery, "Has to have a nice body, like me, of course… "
Bakura laughed softly, "Your ego never fails to amaze me."
"Or turn you on," Malik retorted easily, "Oh, wait… I forgot about that unnaturally high libido of yours."
"You just wait a damned minute there – "
Malik narrowed his eyes as a crowd began to form around a particular table. "Hey… there's a kid with a pretty wicked hairstyle at Mai's table."
"Craps, huh? That's pretty gutsy. He should have started with Twenty-One," Bakura set his now-empty glass on the counter and gave his friend a nudge, "Hey, bartender, you think you could…?"
"Trying to get some money out of little naïve novices with your Black Jack skills, Bakura? Tsk," Malik chastised, taking the ice-filled cup and dumping the contents into the sink, mindfully ignoring the disappointed look on the white-haired dealer's face.
"Only the best players at Pharaoh's Palace, of course," Bakura answered with a nonchalant shrug, "We'll see how long he survives."
"Just get to work, you bum."
"Hey, Yami."
Walking casually through the middle aisle and on the way back to his hotel room, the young man stopped in his tracks. Atemu Mutou twisted his head in the direction of the voice, glancing back toward an older blond woman. Mai Kujaku. He had first met her at his first casino game – craps. Tonight, she was stationed at the nearby poker table.
Mai, turning her attention back to her table, lay down her hand, her violet eyes catching Atemu's for another split second before dropping back down, and the corners of her lips twitched discreetly. Her five cards displayed a full house, complete with three sevens and a pair of kings. There was a collective murmur of disappointment around the table, but the middle-aged players and rich businessmen had little to lose and continued to play another round. The minimum bet at Mai's table was a good fifty dollars, and those who played there were a gold, platinum, or VIP member. Atemu's hand habitually moved toward his wallet.
He stopped. He had been here at the casino for a good two hours and already gained a net total of around five hundred. Did he really need to press his luck?
"Yami! Buddy!"
Caught off guard, Atemu turned toward the lounge, and the bartender waved. Atemu let himself give a small smile and started for the bar. Behind him, Mai's clear voice was disrupting his resolution to stop for the night.
"Flush."
Another shuffle of chips and cards. Atemu was almost sure that some unknown force was calling him to the poker table as he entered the darkened area of the room.
Katsuya Jounouchi scoffed and leisurely poured bourbon onto a column of ice in a tall glass. He slid the drink across the table, and Atemu took hold of it as he approached.
"Don't you dare let her snag you into another game, you gambler, you," Katsuya's boyish smile dropped as he adopted a serious tone, "Leave her with some dignity, hm?"
"Jou," Atemu replied wearily, sitting on the cushioned stool, "It's just beginner's luck."
"Yeah. Keep saying that – just as you have for the past… oh… three months?"
Atemu shrugged, "Mai is a good player. I can't help myself."
He gave the bartender an abashed look before taking a large gulp of alcohol. He could not help the sparkle in his cerise eyes as he eyed the blond dealer. She flashed her cards, a straight this time, at the other players and shot Katsuya a look that clearly said 'What were you saying about needing dignity, little boy?'
The amber-eyed bartender dropped his head into his palms, "How does she do that?"
"… Do what?"
"Know what I'm saying! And then, she acts as if she's just SO much better than me."
"And 'She's ONLY five years older than me' , right?" Atemu smiled innocently and drained his glass, having had this rant drilled into his head. Mai probably had the same phrases memorized as well, seeing as the two of them bickered like an old married couple most of the time.
"How did you know?"
"You're hopeless, you know?"
The next day…
Ringing.
The phone was ringing.
Atemu rolled over, tangling further into the white sheets. A muffled groan worked its way through his throat. Slowly, one eye opened to take in his position. The phone was to his left. Screwing his eyes shut, the twenty-two year old ducked his head beneath the cream colored comforter and moaned softly. His head was pounding, and the ringing was increasing the pain. The young man decided it was time to stop drinking or else his head just might break one morning.
It was not stopping. Atemu could not tell if it was his head or the phone that seemed to be ringing the loudest.
His hand shot out, snatching the phone, and sent the appliance tumbling onto the floor. The receiver stayed within his lax grip. He brought it cautiously to his ear.
"Hello…?"
He was not prepared for the blast of energy that filtered through the line via the front desk woman's voice.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Mutou! This is your reminder that your payment for next month is due!"
Cheerful woman, Atemu begrudged to himself.
"… Today?"
"Yes, sir!"
"… Can't you just bill me?"
He was in a dark, antisocial mood at the moment.
"I believe you requested that we remind you."
"… Ow."
Atemu could hear the smile in the woman's voice.
"Drink safely!"
Isn't it drive safely?
"… Uh… yes. Thank you. I'll stop by the registration desk later. Thank… you… right… okay. Bye."
Atemu dropped the phone back in its place and buried his head under his pillow. He glanced at the digital clock. It was nearly two in the afternoon.
I've become nocturnal. Atemu gripped his temples as he slid upright, placing his feet on the carpet. Padding to the bathroom, he headed straight for the portable cabinet he kept near the sink. Pulling out the much-needed bottle of aspirin, he filled a cup with water and took two tablets mechanically. This is so great for my health, really.
Swinging open the pilot's door, Seto Kaiba dropped nearly soundlessly onto the roof of his casino. Locking his helicopter, the CEO pocketed the keys and flipped open his cell phone. He quickly dialed his brother's number.
"Mokuba. I'm here."
There was a shuffle of what seemed to be papers swept onto the floor and a loud clunk that made the brunette's eye twitch.
"Hi, Seto-o," came the warbled tone of his younger brother.
"… If you're drunk, I'm grounding you right now."
"I'm not, I'm not!" Mokuba denied over the phone, sounding normal as if he regained his composure, "It just happens to be… seven AM here in Tokyo!"
The older brother entered the elevator and leaned against the back wall as the machinery was brought to life with some creaking. Mokuba Kaiba, who had fallen asleep at his desk, took a good few minutes to realize that, by seven o'clock, he should be awake, and, by Seto's standards, working.
"Oops."
"Yes, 'oops'," Seto answered coldly, his sharp cerulean eyes watching the lighted numbers on the panel as they indicated the rate of his descending. "Whatever, Mokuba."
"Yeah. Sorry, Seto."
"It's okay. Maybe I work you too hard."
"Finally! Some common sense!" Even over the static, Seto could hear the exasperation in Mokuba's voice.
"… I'm hanging up."
"Mou-!"
"Good afternoon, Isis."
Alert blue eyes looked up from the computer, and the beautiful Egyptian woman turned in her chair. Her identification, ISIS ISHTAR, was clipped to the traditional Egyptian dress she wore and indicated that she was an employee of Pharaoh's Palace. Her dark long tresses were secured out of her face by a gold colored headpiece that completed her calm appearance.
"Atemu Mutou," she folded her hands on the desk, "I was expecting to see you today… though, don't you think it is a little late in the day?"
Lowering his eyes, the young man looked sincerely ashamed, "Well, I overslept."
"Too much gambling again, Yami?" Isis asked vaguely, making an obvious condescending remark on Atemu's risky nightlife, as she moved back in her small office to retrieve a pad of paper and pen.
"Just a little, mother," Atemu responded, with a bit of sarcasm lacing his otherwise polite voice.
The elegant woman shrugged off the sardonic title. She was used to it, since it came from her ever-troublesome twin brothers and friends, and, now, Atemu.
"Are you depositing money as usual?"
"Yeah. Hold on – let me get it."
He reached for his back pocket and took out his wallet, thicker than usual. Atemu pulled out a thick wad of paper money; it was an entire month's worth of his gambling winnings.
"Are you sure you don't want to go to the bank to do this?"
"I trust you."
Isis heaved a mental sigh as the younger man slid the large bundle of cash across the table. Every single time, she felt like she was doing devil's work as she gingerly picked up the stack and set her mind to re-counting the paper money. She placed the stack into the desk drawer and turned to her computer. Opening her bank account, she set to transferring 11,700 to Mutou Atemu's account that she managed, leaving out the other 5,000 for the hotel payment. Like a parent, she oversaw both accounts of her two brothers and even Bakura, who all usually depended on Isis to make the necessary money transactions for deposits and withdrawals. In a business-like fashion, she printed out the receipt of the transaction and gave it to the tense individual in front of her.
Atemu breathed out, relaxing, and felt safer knowing the money was secured.
"I'll stop by the bank later on today," Isis said uselessly, as if just clarifying to herself that the large amount of cash could not sit in the desk forever.
Leaning over the counter, Atemu gave the older woman a quick peck on the cheek, "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you."
"You would probably be robbed for all the cash you carry on you."
He smirked, "That's why only you know. I'd like to see you try to mob me."
"I would leave that to Mariku if I really wanted to."
Atemu turned and walked back toward the casino, "Love you lots, I'm going to call home."
"Take care, Atemu."
Isis could see that Atemu visibly stiffened after being addressed by his real name, even if it was from someone so close and dependable. He gave Isis a weak smile and wandered toward the pay phones.
"Welcome back, Kaiba-sama."
"Kisara," the tall twenty-five year old nodded to his long-time secretary who was one of the people that he actually trusted, "How's everything at Pharaoh's Palace?"
The young woman smiled and motioned the other to her desk. Once they both had a clear view of the laptop, Kisara pulled up several graphs and charts on the screen. "Everything's fine. I believe our popularity is going up too. Although, you might want to just take a look around the casino. I can't play those wretched games like you can, and you can at least make sure our dealers are doing their jobs correctly."
"No one has hit any of the big jackpots?"
"You would have been called here right away, Mr. CEO. Shake hands, write on the humongous check, smile and bond with the paparazzi… "
"Mmm… sounds like fun," Seto replied sarcastically, "Been talking to Mokuba lately?"
"No… why do you ask?"
"Your humor gives me the strange impression that you have."
Kisara laughed softly, "No, I'm just glad you're back. It's been too quiet lately."
"You're expecting something big to happen, hm?"
"It is Las Vegas."
A/N: .:ducks tomatoes and flames:. I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Was it truly bad?
Please! I need all the suggestions I can get!
Here are some pairings I'm thinking of including:
SetoxYami
BakuraxMalik
But those are all the pairings I'm thinking of. What are yours!
Review, review?