When they land in Beijing, the first thing they do is get drunk. Well, not the very first thing. The very first thing Bakura does is wander out of the airport, grab a random person off the sidewalk, and demand to be taken to a bar. Malik, on the other hand, has to persuade a very pushy businessman that he is not a girl, and really isn't single. He has time to reflect that this would be easier if his boyfriend weren't off mauling cab drivers, before giving up and kneeing the man in the groin.
"You owe me a drink," he says as he slides into the cab next to Bakura. "And an orgy."
"Why a drink?" Bakura asks. His head bangs on the back of the seat in front of him when the cab lurches into motion. Malik only barely manages to save himself from a similar fate. "Ow."
"I could have thrown you over for the heir to one of the most prominent communications companies in the country," Malik informs him. "He just made me a very nice offer. He even said I could fly his jet."
Bakura snarls as the cab goes around several corners very sharply, sending its passengers lurching back and forth in their seats. "Bastard. I'll teach him to interfere with what's-" the cab takes another sharp turn, and Malik is thrown against his door with Bakura on top of him. "Mine," Bakura finishes, and leans down to kiss Malik roughly.
Malik, for his part, arches up into the kiss, trying not to moan too much. Bakura's ego really doesn't need the stroking. Though it would probably enjoy it. Much like certain other parts of Bakura. The thought is pleasantly distracting enough that it takes a few minutes for Malik to realize that the cab has actually stopped. It takes even longer to pry Bakura off him.
"Bar," he says at his boyfriend's annoyed growl. "Alcohol. Victims." Bakura growls again. "Seedy bathrooms to make out in."
They're out of the cab so fast the driver doesn't even have time to ask for his fare.
Once inside, Bakura loses a little of his intense focus in the face of the many distractions the bar offers. He procures them drinks by the simple expedient of grabbing two glasses off a table when the proper owners aren't looking. Malik takes the whiskey before Bakura can make him have the stupid pink girly drink.
It's got a flower in it. There are some things that are beneath even Malik's dignity.
Bakura glares at the glass, and empties it in one swallow. Then he glares at the glass again. "Pink things always taste funny," he grumbles.
"Yes, yes," Malik says. "You were the one who grabbed it, you know." He smugly sips his whiskey.
"Didn't notice that it was pink."
"It was practically glowing."
"I," says Bakura with great dignity, "was looking at something else."
"Like what?" Malik raises one eyebrow skeptically
"Like my incredibly hot boyfriend," Bakura replies triumphantly. "So there."
Malik is about to make a comment about maturity and which of them is currently lacking it when the rightful owner of his whiskey notices his drink is missing. Since Malik is still holding the partially-full glass and Bakura hasn't set down the cup the pink thing came in, identifying the culprits is almost pathetically easy.
The bar fight is even more impressive after Bakura gets bored and starts summoning Duel Monsters. Although Malik does sympathize with the screaming when Dark Necrophades appears; he likes and is used to Bakura's deck, and that monster still creeps him out. But the confusion does provide a nice cover, and Malik manages to liberate several bottles of the barman's finest before the cops show up and everyone starts running.
Bakura and Malik find a nice empty alley, and divide the spoils. Bakura has managed to accumulate a truly impressive pile of cash, as well as several watches and bracelets. And a few stranger treasures.
"Is that a tooth?" Malik stares at the small object in Bakura's palm and takes a drink out of the bottle of scotch they've opened.
"It was on the floor, I just grabbed it," Bakura says. "Solid gold filling." He grabs the bottle and takes a few swallows himself.
"Cool," Malik says. He has the awesomest boyfriend ever. Between the whiskey and the scotch and whatever was in the previous two unlabeled bottles, he's gotten a little tipsy. "I think you have too much clothes on."
Bakura smiles, slow and sharp. "So do you," he purrs, and Malik remembers that Bakura hasn't has nearly as much to drink as he has. Of course, Bakura also seems to suddenly have about ten hands, so it works out fine. Or something. At this point, Malik is too preoccupied to really care.
He wakes up with a splitting headache to the feeling of being in motion. Opening his eyes is too much trouble, so he just groans softly. The thing he's resting his head against shifts slightly, so it's probably a person.
"We're on a bus," Bakura says. He sounds like he's smiling. "I remembered not to kill the driver this time." Malik grunts something that could possibly be praise, and falls back asleep.