We've caught ourselves up now, running a chapter behind, so basically you'll get 'em as fast as we write 'em. If anyone's still reading...

In this chapter:

Tendershipping up to HERE (it was a medical necessity for both of us at the time we wrote it), Ryou's spine, Bakura's stupidity (kids - don't go back to a firework after it's lit, actually, basically just don't do anything Yami B would do), cameos from prideshipping, thiefshipping, angstshipping, MORE TENDERSHIPPINGGGG. It's my guilty pleasure. Many thanks for Borath for going nuts with me on it.

Thieves of Love

The Journey

Chapter 4 - Out of the Frying Pan

The house was quiet, with Ryou downstairs enjoying this rare state and Bakura ensconced in his room - where he had been for over an hour. The peace ended abruptly with a muffled bang from behind the Ring spirit's door. An acrid, burnt smell followed him out of the closet, and he closed the wooden door on the Shadow Realm with a vicious kick, his hands held up and trembling. His eyes watering from more than just the smoke, Bakura slumped down against the door and banged his head against the wood. "Hikari!"

The sound of shoeless feet came padding up the stairs, Ryou's white-framed face peering nervously down the corridor towards the source of the shout. Bakura shouting for him usually meant he was in for a tough time, but it didn't look like Bakura was in a position to do him much harm this time. Ryou hurried over, kneeling down beside the injured man. Concern showed itself unbidden in his wide brown eyes. "What happened, Bakura?" He had been happy to hand that name over to the spirit on his attaining a body of his own. 'Hikari' was a good enough nickname for him, and a marked improvement on 'Yadonushi'. Cute, even, he sometimes thought.

Even with Ryou kneeling well into what he'd define as his personal space, Bakura found that he couldn't look away from his blistering hands. He'd experienced pain more times than he cared to remember in Shadow Games as a non-corporeal entity, but that had always felt unfocused and dull. Since getting a physical body again, he'd scuffed his knees a few times and damn near broken a toe kicking a door in. But this piercing, relentless sensation was something else entirely.

To Ryou's question, he shook his head a little. "Did something stupid." A beat, and when he wasn't immediately tended to, Bakura growled through his teeth and clamped his eyes shut. That he felt moisture leak out and down his cheeks didn't help his mood. "Ra's sake, Ryou, stop staring and do something."

Ryou blinked, snapping out of his daze at the realisation that Bakura actually seemed to need him for a change. Looking down at Bakura's hands, he could see the skin starting to pucker in angry pink weals. Recognising the burns, he heaved Bakura to a standing position with an arm around his back, wondering how he managed to pack so much weight into the slight frame. It must be all that raw meat, he mused, guiding Bakura in to the bathroom and setting him down to sit on the edge of the bath. He turned the cold water on full in the basin, rolling up Bakura's shirt sleeves and wondering at the pain he must be in as he noted the burn marks extending half way up his wrists. "Something stupid? That doesn't sound like you," he smiled, trying to distract his yami. He reached out an index finger to wipe away the tears, as he had been used to doing for his sister years ago.

Bakura flinched away from the touch with a murderous glare, not wanting any attention drawn to the fact that his eyes would just not stop watering. At least Ryou wasn't saying anything about it, he conceded. Aside from the thinly veiled sarcasm. "Yeah, well," he finally murmured, considering his twitching hands again with a wince. Even with Shadow Magic it would take a few days for the wounds to heal. He could only hope that it would be in time for Theo. "At least I didn't burn the house down."

"Yes, about that..." Ryou indicated for Bakura to place his hands under the running water, not willing to risk touching him again. He was, however, going to have to broach the subject of how exactly the spirit had managed to inflict such harm upon himself, and what exactly Ryou was going to find behind the closet door. He breathed deeply, aiming for his meekest voice, trying to keep any kind of inflection out of his words. "Can you tell me what happened? Do I need to call the fire brigade?"

The first few seconds under the cold tap hurt, but then gave way to blissful relief. Bakura released the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, turning his hands under the water as Ryou indicated. "No, it's fine. I was..." He hesitated before shaking his head and withdrawing his stiff hands from the water. Leaving was his reflexive way of dealing with conversations he didn't want to have. Immediately, however, the pain blazed back in crescendo and he put his hands back with a hiss, deciding that he needed the distraction even if it did cost some pride. "I watched some old music videos for inspiration for the Thieves and tried putting a firework on my guitar. It backfired." He flicked his hands demonstrable. "Literally."

Trusting that the house wasn't in any immediate danger, and leaving the investigation of the firework-damaged closet for some later, Bakura-free date, Ryou examined Bakura's hands under the flow of the water. The colour wasn't fading fast enough for his liking. "You'll have to stay under the water for a while longer, I'm afraid. I'd like to take you to hospital, but..." That wasn't really an option, with Bakura not actually existing in any legal sense of the word. He sat resignedly down next to Bakura, realising he'd been hovering anxiously and probably doing nothing to calm the spirit. "I don't think you'll be playing guitar for a while, fireworks aside." He scuffed a white-socked foot over the tiled floor. "I'm sorry, I know how much you were looking forward to the gig." I was, too, he thought. "I hope you won't give up."

Bakura shrugged, still watching his hands and willing them to change colour. "I'm not fully mortal, so hopefully this will heal quickly. In time for Theo." He shifted a little, biting the tip of his tongue before finally looking at Ryou properly. This was embarrassing enough already. "Don't tell the Pharaoh about this. Or Kaiba." He'd meant for it to come out a threat but, perhaps because of being (temporarily) under his Hikari's care, it came out as an almost-plea.

Ryou smiled honestly. "I wouldn't." He didn't like to discuss Bakura, even with Yugi. The gang always tried to separate him from the Ring Spirit, and once he was finally free they couldn't understand why he'd wanted to take back someone who'd hurt him, hurt his friends, who at best tolerated him and at worst could kill. Yet somehow Ryou felt a kinship with the three-thousand-year-old tomb robber, as ridiculous as that seemed, and wanted to help the spirit overcome his grief and learn to live in this new body. Yugi always talked about seeing the good in people, yet he couldn't see how protective Bakura had been towards his host at times. Admittedly, Bakura had needed Ryou to exist, but maybe Bakura might learn that Ryou could be just as useful to him in more pedestrian ways. Such as, apparently, nursemaid.

Ryou leaned just a little so their shoulders touched. "I think I should have some aloe vera or something," he said, before getting up to search the mirrored cabinet for the first aid kit. Aloe vera, check; surgical gauze, check. "I can dress it for you, if you'll let me?" He looked inquisitively back towards the bath.

The Ring spirit was pointedly not looking at Ryou, and his shoulders slumped a little in defeat when he nodded fractionally. When the much younger man began gathering the supplies, Bakura decided that he wanted to regain some control of the situation. "Then I want a cigarette."

Ryou pursed his lips. "I really don't think..." From the look on Bakura's face, now was not the time for this discussion. He sighed. "Bandage first, cigarette later. You can't get smoke and ash mixed in there." He indicated to Bakura to remove his hands from the basin, washing his own before picking up the ointment. "This is going to sting, I'm afraid." A small squeeze of the tube onto his finger, and he began to cautiously smooth it over the burns on Bakura's right hand.

That sounded like a challenge to Bakura's ears, and he steeled himself on the edge of the bath. The fluid hurt in a different way to the burn had, but not less. He fidgeted with pursed lips, watching the slender fingers working the ointment into his hand with hypnotizing gentleness. Everything that his Hikari did was gentle and quiet, no matter how much he screamed and banged around. It irritated him largely because he didn't understand it. When the quiet had stretched out to an uncomfortable length, he scowled up through his bangs. "You're an idiot," he muttered flatly. "Why're you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Ryou said absently, setting aside the ointment to begin wrapping the gauze around Bakura's hand, taking care to space each finger with extra gauze. "First aid? I guess I just had to learn, with my father being away so often."

Once again, the desire to escape this emotionally disorientating situation swelled again, but Ryou hadn't finished one hand, and both were burnt. On the bright side, it was effectively distracting from the pain. But he was stuck, and Bakura knew better than to stab the camel he was riding. "First aid on me, you dolt." The gauze caught and he jerked on reflex with a hiss, though let the other continue to treat him. "Would have thought you'd be happy with me not being able to throttle you. Or anything else."

"Oh, I should imagine it will still hurt to use your hands for a while," Ryou beamed innocently. He continued to wrap all the way up Bakura's wrist, securing the gauze with a safety pin and turning the hand over to check the burned surface was totally covered. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the other hand, commencing with the lotion. "But you're hurt. I'd do the same for any of my friends."

That made Bakura snort a laugh, which helped to cover a flinch when the lotion made burning contact with his blistered skin. "I'm not your friend. Yadonushi to landlord to nursemaid..." He shook his head a little, finding that the pain was making him feel more exposed to thoughts that had been troubling him ever since it had become apparent that this solid body was here to stay.

Before, no matter how he treated Ryou, Ryou simply couldn't get rid of him, and Bakura could roam utterly free despite whatever his host might think. Now he had a lot to lose - now he needed food and shelter, of which his possible list of sources for was incredibly short. Much as he hated to admit it, until Thieves began to generate a stable income, he was wholly dependent on Ryou's charity. Which meant he needed to be nicer to him, even if that necessity did make him want to throttle him.

Examining the bandaging on his other hand as a distraction whilst Ryou continued working, he spoke to the fabric more than his hikari. "Thanks. For not being..." 'Like me' had been on his tongue and immediately stifled - he'd never apologised for who he was before, and he wasn't about to start now. Bakura cleared his throat and forced himself to meet Ryou's soft gaze. "A bakayaro about this."

"That's no problem," Ryou answered automatically, concentrating on bandaging Bakura's other hand. "There. All done. You can have your cigarette. Outside," he added. House rules still applied. "Where did you hide them this time?" He looked reprovingly at the older man. It wasn't a habit Ryou approved of at the best of times, and he wished, from personal experience, that Bakura would take better care of the bodies entrusted to his care.

A lazy smile slid across Bakura's mouth. "In your room. Hollowed out your thesaurus last month." That was where one of his stashes resided - Ryou didn't need to know about the teddy bear or plant pot.

Taken aback for an instant, before reminding himself he really shouldn't be surprised at the sneaking, the invasion of privacy or the desecration of personal property, Ryou summoned his fiercest expression. "Bakura, honestly." It was like living with a three-year-old sometimes. He sighed. "Come on, then. Let's get them."

Ryou's room was far too clean and tidy for a house occupied by two bachelors. It didn't take him long to locate the thesaurus on the bookshelf. His eyes flicked involuntarily back towards Bakura as he noted the carved-out pages on opening the cover. He took the slim white packet, wondering if Bakura could actually have failed to have read the warnings printed in blocky letters at least as tall as the brand name. "Did you just add 'other people' on to 'Smoking kills' in your head?" he asked.

"It makes it look cooler," Bakura replied flatly, automatically reaching for the packet and then stopping with a frown. He might as well be wearing boxing gloves between the bandages and the fact that he couldn't so much as twitch his hands without excruciating pain. Surely he was being punished. "Ra's sake... You're going to have to help me with this."

Ryou's patience was, if not infinite, at least galactic in scale. He accompanied Bakura outside, taking a coat to drape across his shoulders against the evening chill, and standing well away from the garage in case of further flammables. "Where's your lighter? In your pocket?"

Grunting an affirmative, Bakura offered his right hip pocket. Once lit, it was depressingly obvious that Ryou was also going to have to hold the cigarette for him to draw off of. It wasn't his night, though he'd always been able to turn a situation to his advantage. They were being forced to spend a few minutes together, and there was no reason why all the awkwardness should be levelled on his shoulders. "You coming to Theo?"

"Yes." Ryou flushed a little at the thought of setting foot inside that den of iniquity. At least he'd have company. "Yugi's coming too." He held the cigarette tentatively, as if Bakura might snap at his fingers. "Are you all set for it? I'm sorry I've missed your rehearsals."

Bakura took a long drag and held the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds, finally releasing it in twin clouds from his nose. "Musically all set. Kaiba's working on the Pharoah's image before then. Which is hilarious."

"Hilarious how?" Ryou asked, curiously. He wasn't particularly fond of either of their fashion tastes, he supposed, but he wasn't used to Bakura expressing opinions this freely around him. It was sort of exciting, being his confidant, and he wanted to encourage any form of law-abiding behaviour in this seemingly reformed criminal.

A scrutinizing look before Bakura snorted. "You really are dense. Kaiba's playing dress-up with the oblivious twerp he's been obsessed with for the better part of a decade. You should've seen them at the audition. It was like Duelist Kingdom all over again." He caught the flicker in Ryou's expression, and decided it was because of the cigarette he was holding hostage that it bothered him. "You know what I mean."

"You mean Kaiba threatened sui- ohhh," Ryou's eyes widened as much as Bakura's had had to narrow to get the point across. "Kaiba and Yami? You think so? I'd always thought Yami and Yugi might have had a thing. They're so close, and they live together and everything. But I guess it would be weird, with them looking so similar. It would be sort of like, um, loving yourself I suppose." Thinking about what he'd just said, he added a hasty caveat. "Not that I've thought about that sort of thing." His cheeks felt hot, and the hand holding the cigarette trembled slightly. Ryou yelped as a finger accidentally brushed against Bakura's lip, and resumed looking quietly at the floor.

Frozen, Bakura watched the younger man with a furrowed brow. His lip tingled from the brief contact, which was weird in isolation, but after that odd speech and now with the sudden staring at the ground again when they'd actually been having a conversation... He steadied Ryou's hand with his bandaged ones and took a thoughtful breath through the cigarette, waiting for him to say something else. Finally, when nothing happened, he dismissed the moment with a huff. "Not weird - still different souls. Different people. But they're not together. The Pharaoh's holding out for a bit more heat and a bit less hero worship. And it's not like he's smart enough to see Kaiba's looking at him. Dip probably thinks he's straight. So: it's hilarious. Can't wait to see how Theo goes."

Ryou sighed inwardly, thanking the heavens Bakura had let the stream of consciousness pass without comment. He tried to relax, but it was hard with his arm constantly raised, and pins and needles beginning to set in. "How is band practice going? Is it hard to keep order with such strong personalities?" Another person might have not minced words, and plumped for "egos".

Experimenting, Bakura bit the filter of the cigarette and drew it from Ryou's fingers, inhaling through his teeth. It worked for a few seconds but then fell abruptly to the ground. Without missing a beat, Bakura ground out the half-smoked cigarette with the heel of his boot. "It's alright. Everyone's got their own things to cover, and they've -"

The former thief cut himself off with a blink, turning his head to look at an indistinct point rather than at anything. One of the other lingering effects of the Shadow Magic that had given him this physical mortal coil was that he could sense other Millennium Item spirits, and this was not the one he wanted to see when his hands were mittened. He looked back to Ryou with hard eyes, the surrounding muscles tight. "Get rid of him. If he sees this, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Him? Him who?" Ryou glanced, confused, at Bakura. With stress that evident on his lodger's face, he hazarded a guess, craning his neck to see down the driveway. "Yami's coming over?"

By the time Ryou looked back, Bakura was gone and already lunging up the stairs. He sent his response as a mental pulse - an unexpected lingering ability, though it was far more difficult to achieve than when he had occupied a Soul Room in the boy's head. Just cover me. A grudging pause. Keep him away from me and I'll owe you one.

I hate when you do that, Ryou thought, thinking better of actually sending the message. The rumbling purr of a motorcycle engine, combined with Bakura's uneasiness, gave away who he should expect to saunter up the driveway. "Malik," he sighed, picking up the stub of the cigarette and disposing of it in the trash can in the garage. He'd tried a flowerpot filled with sand in an effort to keep the front of the house presentable, but Bakura remained obstinately untidy.

The quickest way to relieve the youngest Ishtar of his schizophrenically-generated alter ego had been to use the same magics that had divided the Egyptian spirits from their hikaris, making "Yami Malik" a shell-shocked but distinctly individual entity. Isis had taken the new spirit into her home in the hopes that it could be reformed from its darkly psychotic roots, leaving her brother and Rishid in their own house nearby. Though Malik was certainly happier for having his mind to himself, the unorthodox procedure had had lasting effects.

It hadn't seemed to bother Malik that a formal suit wasn't the best thing to wear on a motorcycle as he kicked down the stand and began to approach the Bakuras' house. His long hair had been pulled back into a short ponytail, though his bangs were still wild around his face. On his back was, quite distinctly, a guitar case.

"Malik. Hi," Ryou put on his most ingratiating smile, checking the front door was closed behind him. "I didn't know you were coming. You should have called." He moved to help Marik with the guitar case. "It's the band that brings you here, then? I didn't know you were in Thieves."

"Yes, I'm on keyboard," Malik replied brightly, allowing Ryou to take the case and then watching him manhandle it as opposed to helping. After a beat, he nodded to said case. "And bass. Bakura said I could only be in the band if I could play two things. Damn near killed me trying to play the keyboard with my feet, but Bakura corrected me a few months ago, so it's okay." Satisfied with his explanation, he folded his arms and took a step back to look up the house, half expecting to see the Ring spirit watching from a window. "What about you? Backing singer?"

Ryou chuckled. "No. I'm not cool enough, apparently. Maybe if I keep at it I can persuade Bakura that I can make the tea in your dressing room." Resting his arms on the top of the guitar case, he returned to the task at hand. "Anyway, if you were hoping to see Bakura, I'm afraid you're out of luck. He's working on some special effects for the gig and can't be disturbed." It was close enough to the truth that the words came out smoothly. "I can tell him you called, though, if you'd like?"

Abandoning the windows with a deeply unsubtle sigh, Malik rested his shoulder against the outside wall. "Oh, there wouldn't be a lot of point in that, now, little Ryou." Another sigh and he dragged his hand through his hair, spraying his bangs outwards and allowing them to fall and curl back around his face. "He's only been talking to me if it's about the band." An indignant sniff. "I'm not his sex sphinx any more."

Ryou managed to suppress a nervous giggle at the outrageous pet name, preferring to move on. He was enjoying being able to sleep uninterrupted and didn't plan on encouraging Malik's attentions towards Bakura who, for all that Ryou might concentrate on his good points, wasn't the best choice of romantic partner for someone recovering from severe mental trauma. "Well, I'm sorry you had a wasted journey, then. You can use the garage for practice for a while, if you'd like?"

"No, it's alright. I was mostly just dropping off the bass. I'm not *carrying* my own instrument to Theo, Ra's sake." Malik gave the youth a long look, considering, before absently brushing back a thick curl of white hair. "See you then."

Ryou flinched at the unexpected contact. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the changes in Malik, but it certainly seemed like he had ideas above his station for a garage band. As did most of the rest of its members. "Sure. Bye, Malik." He stood with the guitar case, watching as the Egyptian mounted the bike, noting with dismay the small spots of gravel dust appear on the trouser cuffs as the kick stand released.

Is he gone?

One hand raised, the wave visible in the bike's mirrors, Ryou answered. Yes. It's safe to come out. He carried the guitar case carefully into the garage to stand with the rest of the kit, making sure to lock up afterwards. How are you feeling? Would you like a drink, or some painkillers? Don't say both, he prayed silently.

There was a brief silence that, somehow, communicated awkwardness. Finally: Actually I need another favour.

Sure. What is it? Ryou took off his shoes inside the front door, waiting for an answer which was not forthcoming. He got half way up the stairs before figuring it out. Don't worry about it. I'll be right there. A tiny smile flitted across his features.

Bakura was waiting in the hallway, slightly flushed but determinedly hard-eyed. "I can do the rest, but, just undo my belt. And never tell anyone."

"Okay." Ryou's voice was soft, trying to provide the reassurance he hadn't known Bakura needed until that day. His fingers fumbled a little with the belt clasp. It felt strange to try and undo one from this angle and he managed to poke the prong into a thumb. It felt stranger to be standing, voluntarily, so close to one who he'd been used to thinking of as his tormentor. Weird, but something he could get used to. He went a little further than instructed, cheeks heating as he did so, figuring that to loose the fly button would be difficult with Bakura's oven-mitted hands. "All done," he announced, looking up and smiling like a pet expecting a reward.

The Ring spirit clearly didn't know where to look, but re-enforced his policy of never feeling even vaguely humiliated alone. When he spoke, however, his voice was forced and gruff. "Didn't know you were so keen to get into my trousers. Must be the mittens."

"I can honestly say you've never been as attractive to me as you are right now," Ryou countered breezily, punctuating with a light tap on Bakura's nose. "Now go if you're going. I'll wait right here."

Bakura's glare intensified, not welcoming this new spine-originating sense of humour of Ryou's. "Go die in a fire." It came out with less venom than he'd hoped, in part due to him standing with his trousers undone, bandages around both hands because of (admittedly) his own zealous stupidity, and a mounting urge to pee. Giving up on the smirking lad barely recognizable as his weak-willed Hikari, the Ring Spirit retreated into the bathroom with as much dignity as he could muster.

Thirty seconds later: "I can't go with you listening!"

"Heh." Well, the civility had been fun while it had lasted. Ryou stuffed his hands in his pockets and shambled off to his room. I'm gone.