Author's notes: Well this is my first ever fic, and it took long enough to write I can tell you! Please R&R. Many thanks to my friends Roisin (SuperSuperMagicMe) and Pippa (Pyjamas) for their help with beta-ing, and again to Pippa for letting me have my yoghurt prompt back off her for me to write, and for introducing me to ffn in the first place! Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own any Yu-Gi-Oh characters, or any lines from Die Hard that may pop up...

'Ryou?'

'What?'

'I'm hungry. Get me something to eat.'

Ryou sighed. For some reason his yami had spent the entire day ordering him about. Ryou's earlier attempt at resistance (he had refused to clean the toilet with his bare hands) had resulted in the sort of tantrum only Bakura could throw. He would have bruises tomorrow.

'Kura, I'm busy right now. I'm cleaning. Cleaning up your mess, I might add, if didn't value my limbs,' he added under his breath, scrubbing hard at the carpet. Bakura had decided to do some painting, and now Ryou was thinking how foolish of him it had been to assume he meant on paper. Next second he straightened up and gasped, too shocked even to scream as a stinging blow thwapped across his backside. Whirling round, white hair flying, he glared at Bakura, who was smirking broadly.

'What was that in aid of?!' he finally managed to squeak. The tomb robber shrugged.

'I felt like it. But there'll be more where that came from if you don't hurry up and get me some food!'

Ryou opened his mouth to argue, but something about the look in Bakura's eye made him change his mind. He knew that look. It meant pain.

'Fine,' he sighed, stretching his back and heading into the kitchen. Bakura followed him, his smirk now a grin of triumph at having walked over his hikari yet again.

'So what do you want?' Ryou asked, head deep in a cupboard. 'We've got mushroom soup?' The look of disgust on Bakura's face answered that one. 'OK, fine, well that's all in the cupboard that you can eat straight away. We're out of bread. I could make you some pasta if you wanted to wait like ten minutes?'

'No!' Bakura's reply had a hint of panic in it, as if waiting ten minutes might well mean he'd starve to death. 'I want something now, Ryou!' His voice took on an urgent note, and Ryou rolled his eyes.

'Fine. Well, maybe there's something in the fridge.' With his yami trailing behind like a particularly evil-minded shadow, Ryou crossed the kitchen to the fridge.

'Ham?'

'Nah.'

'Cheese?'

'Nah.'

'How about something with eggs?'

'Nah.'

'Vegetables?'

'Ugh, no!'

Ryou sat back on his haunches, swept his hair out of his eyes and looked hard at Bakura.

'Well, sorry, but that's all we've got. Everything. Tout. Todo. That's it.'

'What? It can't be!'

Poor Ryou found himself sprawled across the floor like a bowling pin as Bakura lunged for the fridge. Picking himself up, he was rather amused to see that the yami had actually managed to fit his entire top half into it, leaving only his legs in the kitchen. Folding his arms, he drummed his fingers on his biceps for a bit, until a muffled exclamation of triumph brought his attention back to the fridge.

'Found something?' he enquired as Bakura came slithering out backwards, a beaming grin plastered smugly across his (slightly chilly, blue at the edges) face. Then he looked downwards and frowned. 'You're empty-handed.'

'I know. I found a yoghurt in there. But, because I asked you to make me something to eat, you're going to have to go in and get it.'

Ryou's jaw dropped. He really couldn't believe Bakura sometimes.

'But you were right there… and it was right there… oh for fuck's sake!' He didn't often swear, but on occasion Bakura made it necessary. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and counted to ten. When he opened them, Bakura had obviously not changed his mind a bit. He gulped. 'Sure you wouldn't like some pasta?' He shook his head. 'Didn't think so. Right then…' Bending down, he put his head into the fridge. And took it out again. 'Err… Kura? Where exactly is this yoghurt? Cos I haven't bought yoghurt for months.'

He could have sworn he saw a flicker of glee pass over Bakura's features.

'Oh, it's right at the back.'

Leaning back in he peered into the back of the fridge, watching his breath mist before his eyes. It was actually pretty cold in there. Squinting against the harsh glow of the fridge's light, he spotted the yoghurt pot, lurking at the very back behind a packet of cheese. He hadn't spotted it before as it blended in well with the white background, and it was so tucked away. It really did look like it had been there a long time. Leaning closer he could just about make out the use by date: '5th… of the 2nd… 2004?!' Craning his head so that he could see into the half-full pot, he withdrew his head sharply, banging it on the top of the fridge in the process. 'Kura,' he spluttered, massaging the growing bump, 'that yoghurt is over 3 years old and looks like it's got cress growing on it! How can you possibly want to eat it?'

The tomb robber scowled. He'd been found out.

'OK, so I wasn't actually going to eat it. I was going to dump it on your head.'

Ryou glared at him. 'You disgust me sometimes. And for that I refuse to buy you Spam for two months.' Knowing this was just about the only punishment that actually worked, thanks to Bakura's secret Spam addiction, he felt a little vindictive pleasure as Bakura's face dropped. Then he turned back to the fridge. 'Well, it can't just stay there. It's probably turned to cheese by now anyway under all that green stuff. I'll have to get it out. And you-' he fixed Bakura with a look that would make a pyramid shudder, '-can bloody well help.'

Ryou decided to give his assembled troops (such as they were) a quick pep talk.

'Well, it's a fairly simple mission. We go in, we grab the yoghurt, we get out ASAP and get rid of it even quicker. Understood?'

Bakura nodded impatiently, rolling his eyes. 'Understood. Now can we just get on with it? 'Cos the sooner we finish, the sooner I can finally get some food.'

Ryou sighed. 'Look, Kura, I don't think you quite understand how serious this is. Either of us could probably quite easily catch something from that yoghurt you know. It's been lying around open for ages. It honestly does look like a miniature vegetable patch. God only knows what's been breeding in it, and if we don't take the proper precautions-'

His 'serious scientist' speech was rudely interrupted at this point by a derisive snort from his companion.

'Fuck's sake! Anyone would think this thing was actually dangerous!'

Elbowing Ryou out of the way, he wrenched open the door, reached in and grabbed the yoghurt pot. However, for some strange reason it seemed to be stuck, and refused to budge. His face an interesting shade of beetroot at the humiliation – Ryou hadn't even bothered trying not to laugh – he gave the pot another tug. It still didn't move, but emitted a nasty squelching sound, which wasn't half as strange as the strangled shriek Bakura let out, reeling away from the fridge and clutching his right wrist with his left hand like someone in a horror movie. Ryou, who had jumped out of his skin at the caterwauling, grabbed him by the shoulders.

'Kura! What the hell's wrong with you?!'

Unable to reply, the tomb robber held up his right hand. There was something on it… something… green.

'Ew, Kura, that's nasty!'

Bakura flushed blackberry.

'Nasty?! I know it's fucking nasty! And it's all your fault your stupid brat! Now get it off and quickly!' The last syllable faded away into a horrified silence as he got another look at the sickly green sludge that had spilled onto his hand. The silence was then promptly punctuated by a sudden yelp. 'Ow! Ow ow owww Ryou, it's burning!'

Things are seriously starting to get out of hand now, Ryou thought grimly as he half-rugby tackled Bakura, who was now running round the kitchen, and propelled him in the direction of the sink. Turning the tap on he shoved Bakura's hand under it.

'And keep it there!' he shouted above the gushing water.

'Oh yeah, 'cos I'm just going to let that stuff stay there and burn a freakin' hole in my hand!' the other boy snarled.

Well if he's being rude again I guess that's a good sign, Ryou thought wryly.

'Right, now just stay there. I'm going to go get some stuff and tackle this thing properly.'

And he left the room. Bakura, listening intently in between examining his hand and muttering ancient Egyptian curses that would blister a battleship, could only hear a series of thumps with which to track Ryou's progress round the house. He could only guess he had gone to find a hammer and chisel or something. A few minutes later, the white-blonde boy returned with-

'Hey! That's my flame thrower! I mean- whoops…' Bakura scowled to hide his mistake. He wasn't supposed to have the flame thrower. He had stolen it from a pest control van and Ryou had not been happy when he found out. Though mind you, Bakura had just set his (Ryou's) bed on fire when it was discovered. The machine had been 'confiscated', which usually meant it had been given to Joey or Malik. Bakura had had no idea that Ryou had kept this one, his particular favourite. Surprise gave way to indignation, and only fear for his life (or hand) stopped him attacking Ryou right there and then.

'Why have you got it? You thieving bastard! Give it here right now! You-' he stopped short as Ryou pointed the flamethrower at his head.

'Kura. Please. Just shut up.' He shut up, more out of shock than anything else. It wasn't often Ryou bit back.

Ryou took a deep breath. He could hear his heart thundering somewhere around his head, and the handle of the flamethrower was slipping in his sweaty grip. He shook the strands of hair out of his eyes. For God's sake Ryou, you're being ridiculous. It's only a yoghurt! he told himself. Maybe, but it's a mutated yoghurt. Look what it did to Kura! he argued back. Whatever. Point is you have to get rid of it. He glared at the fridge in which his nemesis lay, mouth set grimly. With Bakura looking on in quiet terror, he reached out with his left hand and carefully opened the door, quickly raising the flamethrower, SAS trooper style.

A sudden surge of adrenaline coursed through him, and, feeling rather like an action hero in a Hollywood blockbuster, he borrowed the words of one of his favourites of that breed; 'Yippie-kai-yay motherfucker!' he whooped, squeezing the trigger.

Flames erupted from the mouth of the weapon like a belch from a dyspeptic volcano, a roiling orange mushroom cloud tearing into the hapless fridge with a full-throated WOOMPH. A stunned Ryou, eyebrows singed, face blackened and scorched and eardrums buzzing, could only compare it, with the one part of his brain still working, to the time Bakura had eaten an entire Vindaloo, and then set light to his fart. Blinking dazedly, he turned to look at Bakura, trying, as he did so, to avoid the sight of the smoking, blackened hulk that a minute ago had been a functioning refrigerator.

The yami looked as stunned as Ryou felt. His mouth was hanging open, and if his eyebrows were raised any higher they would end up going into orbit. As they made eye contact though, Bakura smirked, and Ryou recognised a familiar glint in his eye. He gulped, and without realising it moved the flamethrower so that it pointed defensively at the other boy.

'Quite the macho man, aren't we?' Bakura said, his voice barbed with sarcasm and something else that Ryou recognised and that thoroughly disconcerted him. He backed away, still holding the flamethrower out in a futile attempt to stop Kura following him. Suddenly he felt the cold wall against his back. Dammit, how did I get myself into a corner?! Helpless, he watched as Bakura approached closer, a light in his brown eyes now, until they were barely inches apart, nose to nose, the flamethrower digging into him where Bakura's body was pressed against it. A cruel smile spread itself over his yami's face. 'Oh look, you're all hot. And sweaty. And looking really rather manly. I think I'm a little,' his eyes glittered and he leaned in even closer, 'turned on,' he breathed.

Ryou gulped. Close to, he could feel Bakura's warm breath on his cheeks, the hard, flat panes of his torso pressed against him, and a trickle of sweat oozing down his own back. He could hear his own heart galloping in his ears and all he could see were Bakura's eyes; like two pools of dark chocolate with a devilish light dancing in them; hypnotic, dangerous; he could not break the gaze. How does he do this to me? he wondered, holding his breath as his yami reached out a hand and gently ran it through his hair, softly, almost tenderly. 'Oh, there's so many things I want to do to you right now,' Bakura continued, and Ryou closed his eyes under the touch, knowing and not even feeling ashamed that right now he would agree to any of those things. 'Unfortunately,' the other boy purred, 'unfortunately… I can't… as I'm TOO HUNGRY TO CONCENTRATE!'

There was a loud bop and Ryou winced in pain as neon stars exploded behind his eyes. Snapping them open, he glared at the now laughing Bakura, all previous desire evaporated.

'What the fuck d'you think you're playing at?!' he snarled, clapping his hands to the spot on his head where Bakura had thumped him and flushing cranberry coloured when he realised how easily he had fallen under his spell. The yami shrugged.

'Hey, I asked you to get me a yoghurt and you incinerated it! Of course I'm going to be annoyed!' Still cursing under his breath, Ryou turned away and rubbed his head furiously. Somehow Bakura had managed to hit him on the exact spot where he had banged it on the fridge earlier. He was going to have a bruise the size of Russia tomorrow, to add to the others the yami had given him.

'I'm going out. Alone. If you're lucky I'll bring you back something to eat. Here, this is yours. Try and do something about the state of this kitchen before I get back.' Thrusting the flamethrower into Bakura's arms, he turned on his heel and headed out of the house, not even stopping to pick up his coat. Hands rammed deep into his pockets, he stumped up the road towards the shops. He knew why he was so mad of course. Not because Bakura thumped him; that was standard practice; he could deal with that. No, it was the fact that Bakura just seemed to… have an effect on him. He knew that no matter how he pretended he didn't need the tomb robber, that he was perfectly happy without him, the truth was somewhat different. And he knew Bakura knew that too. Which is what makes it so bloody difficult to pretend.

Back in the empty house, Bakura smirked to himself as he surveyed the still-smoking mess in the kitchen. He knew that Ryou knew that he knew that Ryou couldn't resist him. But what Ryou didn't know, or so Bakura fervently hoped, was that he himself wasn't exactly immune to the white-haired boy's charms either. This thought brought a scowl to the yami's face. Ra knows why; he's an utter imbecile. And his hair is ridiculous. But the fact was, and the smirk crept across Bakura's face again as he allowed himself to admit it, he needed Ryou too. And not just to get him yoghurt either.