Thanksgiving

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A/N: Wow, I haven't touched this in a looooonggg time. Haha! I'm sorry, but I want to let all of you know -- to those who commented and voted and read this, thank you so much. I appreciate you clicking on this ragtag book of random SetoKisara one shots and giving it a try.


Thanksgiving dinner was fantastic. But then again, when was it ever not fantastic when Kisara cooked it? No kidding. The girl could whip up a meal that would quench every kind of hunger burning in his food deprived stomach. Before she came along, he had had a habit of starving himself almost to the point of illness just because of work. Mokuba had tried to get him out of the unconscious self-deprecating habit, but it had only improved a little. His brother was a big help in every aspect of Seto's life, but Mokuba could only go so far as to ask their personal cook to come over and make something for them to eat. That and order take-out food that Seto would hardly touch even when his little brother delivered it to him personally with a stern warning to eat or he might end up killing himself.

And in a year of dating Kisara, Mokuba had been extremely happy that his brother was finally eating for three meals a day. It was better than two. How could he not really? Kisara was really good at it.

"You have out done yourself, honey." Kisara's father piped up from his seat at the dining table, patting his stomach with a satisfied smile.

"Yeah!" Mokuba cheered. "I don't think I've ever tasted anything so delicious."

Seto sat quietly, not bothering to give a comment. He just had his arms folded across his chest, and once he had caught Kisara's eye, gave her the secret upward turn of the corner of his lip. He knew better than anyone that his girlfriend might as well have gone to culinary school. She didn't even try hard with flavoring and food presentation. Her natural talent for preparing five-star restaurant quality food was a home-grown gift. It was one she had picked up from her mother and her aunt growing up before her parents got divorced. It was by no means, an amicable arrangement. Kisara had told him everything went haywire, and that was the bumpiest year her family's ever seen. In the end, her mother had moved out—never to be seen again. Kaiba wasn't all too happy finding out that the woman never bothered to see Kisara again. He could understand the animosity the couple might have felt for each other since their relationship obviously did not work out, but Kisara's mom could have at least tried for her only daughter.

As it happened, Kisara grew up with her dad. A cheerful man—who reminded Seto of a college professor—with a loud guffaw and a huge appetite. When he and Kisara had begun dating, she had introduced him to her father a little over a week after being formally acquainted with Mokuba. The first meeting was exactly as Seto had imagined it. The man sized him up considerably, and from what Kaiba had observed, watched his every move. The man silently watched the way he dressed, the way he spoke, the way he acted around them, how he interacted with Kisara. Seto had felt like he was directly under surveillance—not from a hidden camera—but a frickin' microscope. It had been inevitable when the man had grilled him with certain questions, like, what was his purpose for dating Kisara, how did they meet, how did he treat her, even went as far as to ask him about Seto's nonexistent college life. Apparently, Kisara's dad didn't watch that much TV anymore. He focused more on housekeeping and running the small automobile garage they had going as a meager business to help pay the land rent and the bills. With a blush that made her extremely red, Kisara had spoken up and told her father who her boyfriend actually was. Heck, even the blurted out CEO status wasn't good enough.

Kisara had invited him to her house multiple times since then, and after a particularly insightful conversation on business and related subjects, his girlfriend's watchful father had thrown in his lot with Seto. That eventually led to them celebrating a few holidays together—the occasional family dinner included.

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