A/N: Okay, so, funny thing happened...I woke up this morning and was like whaaat? It's already Wednesday? How did that happen? And then...yah, then I felt guilty, so I rushed through editing this so that I could post it right away! Anyways, other than my apparent lack of ability to figure out what day of the week it is when I don't have to go to school...Elle is updating regularly againnn ~! Yah, that's right, I'm back, so don't write this story off just yet ;) Hope you all like this chapter, I've been writing none stop so that I can have knew chapters ready every week! And it also happens to be summer break, so I have no life and nothing to do but finish this story for you guys!
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Malik dragged his feet, feeling his stomach drop as someone came hurtling in from outside, throwing the door wide open. It made it difficult to kill time opening it.
Why was he killing time?
Because he was nervous.
Why was he nervous?
He had no clue.
He had never felt nervous about seeing Bakura at school before, or talking to him, or anything like that. The closest thing to nerves that he had experienced around his (totally gay but in denial) friend (and maybe crush) was when they'd taken that, ah, interesting motorcycle ride together.
Malik felt himself flushing at the mere thought of his 'little problem' that had come up during the time, and he had only managed to get rid of it when Bakura appeared with his knife through his fucking window. Sure, it was impressive, but still terrifying and totally…totally off topic.
Moaning to himself hopelessly, Malik shook his head, forcing himself to continue on his way towards the twisted hunk of rattling parts and, hopefully still intact, steel that Bakura called his car. The only way to get rid of this curse was to take his medicine, and that meant letting Bakura drive him home.
It was just a ride there and back; it really should be no big deal. So, why was he so nervous about getting in the car with the other boy?
Come to think of it, this was the first time he and Bakura had spent anytime really alone together. Malik was just starting to draw the connections between what happened last time and this time when he caught sight of Bakura leaning against his hunk of junk, obviously waiting impatiently for Malik to show up.
Did his choker just get tighter, or was there some other reason it was suddenly so hard to breath?
It couldn't have been Bakura; he didn't look that different than usual. Well, he had his school jacket completely unbuttoned, his hair flying in the slight breeze, and a slightly annoyed look to go with it as he flicked it back. A pair of dark aviators were poking out above the snarls of white on his head, not quite able to hamper with his characteristic bat-like wings of hair.
By now, Malik was close enough to hear Bakura's sigh of annoyance over the thunder in his chest, and he coughed awkwardly to make his presence known. Glancing up, Bakura was surprised to see his wishes were answered –the kid was finally here.
"Took you bloody long enough," he grumbled, but it was a little too mild to be his usual irritable style. In fact, now that the flip-flopping wiggly animals, or whatever they were, had died off, he found himself looking forward to this. Not being Malik's babysitter of course, but getting away from Ryou and Mariku's awkward attempts at 'friendship'.
Honestly, it was tiring to watch them keep getting there hopes up and then getting them dashed again. In the last quarter alone, Mariku had succeeded in causing another of Ryou's shorter, subdued panic attacks by simply walking up behind him to ask a question about lunch. Naturally, this set Mariku off on another rant about how Ryou needed to 'get over' their past issues, which proceeded to upset Ryou more, which proceeded to get Malik more curious, which proceeded to make Bakura step in and make them all shut up before Ryou started crying or something sissy like that.
Besides, if he didn't want to bring the skeletons out of the closet, that was fine by Bakura. He liked to keep his skeletons nice and dusty and all but forgotten whenever possibly.
"S-sorry," Malik stammered, and Bakura raised an eyebrow at the odd stammer. "So…so let's go than, if you're so impatient," the blond added, cursing himself internally for letting his conflict show.
Obviously, even that wasn't enough, because Bakura curled his lip, revealing a sharp canine that told of how disbelieving he was, but followed the expression with a short nod, rocking forward off the car and moving over to the driver's seat.
Malik watched him go, feeling his eyes dragged down to where the fabric stretched almost strategically over his –no. No, that was the gayest thought ever, and it had not come out of his mind. No matter what this little…infatuation was, it wasn't going to get the best of him like that.
He wasn't some man-whore who stared at other guys asses!
Opening the door, he slid inside, and settled on folding his arms defiantly. Maybe that would do it? No, still no response from Bakura, except another strange side glance.
It was Malik who was feeling more and more conflicted as they began to drive, unable to make himself stop staring at his silent chauffer. He felt certain that Bakura knew he was being checked out, but hopefully he'd just chalk that up to Malik's inability to sit still today. Just in case though, it would be better to play on the safe side and start up a conversation. It would help pass the time, as well.
Malik knew this, and yet, every time he went to open his mouth to make a comment, on the weather, on Bakura's ridiculous hair, on Bakura's even more ridiculous sunglasses, on how fast they were driving, on anything, he couldn't seem to make anything come out. He kept getting distracted by how…well how hot Bakura was looking.
Gah, it must be the ADHD bringing out these thoughts, somehow, even if the explanation didn't entirely make sense. You'd think it'd be harder to focus on anything for a long period of time right? Wrong. He couldn't take his eyes off of the Thief King's cold features.
"Is there a particular reason you can't stop staring at me?" Bakura asked calmly, and Malik nearly jumped out of the car in shock.
"Err…I'm not?" Even to Malik's ears it sounded pathetic.
"You clearly are," Bakura replied in a mildly amused tone, though the observation was merely a way of puffing his ego up even more. Malik stared dazedly at the slight curl of his lip, forming that prideful smirk, taking a solid thirty seconds before he could force his eyes away.
Mumbling unintelligibly to himself, Malik fought the horrendous, pink flush burning up his cheeks, internally cursing his unpredictable disorder. Again, the unnerving thought that this was the first opportunity he and Bakura had to talk alone popped into his head, making him sink farther into his seat. It was a testimony to how pathetic their friendship or…whatever it was they had, was.
Okay, time to break this oppressive silence. Don't look at him, don't think to hard, just say something, anything…
"How did you get so good with a knife?" He blurted, and then wondered uneasily if it was really an appropriate question. Wait, appropriate, Bakura? Those things hardly went together anyways. Ugh, his mind couldn't stay focused in the least today.
Tossing his companion a side glance, Bakura raised a stark white eyebrow questionably, before shrugging it off and deciding it wouldn't hurt to answer the kid's questions.
"That's what happens when you get enough practice," he explained simply, though there was a certain grimness to his tone that Malik didn't miss.
"I wonder how a high school student gets the opportunity to practice that much," Malik mused aloud; giving Bakura a pointed to look that said he was seeking an answer. A cold laughed slipped out of the other's icy façade, and the sound was so chilling, Malik was surprised that there was no condensation cloud forming from his breath.
"Oh, you know how it goes; you're in the foster system. Granted, you got lucky and nailed a good place to stay, but you must know a thing or two about less-than-perfect parents. Me and Ryou have enough of a family left that they can't put us into the system, but not enough of one to support is living in what some might the nicer part of town. I know how to handle myself in our neighbourhood, though," Bakura relayed casually, but there was a flinty look to his face that Malik didn't recognize as part of his normal expression, and an untold frustration to his actions as he switched lanes.
A small shiver found the younger Egyptian's body; he knew far too much about vengeful frustration. He probably should have stopped questioning Bakura so personally and switched to a safer topic like the weather, but he found his lips forming another question.
"Your parents aren't dead?" Bakura stiffened noticeably in his seat, turning to give him a harsh glare when they stopped for a red light.
Malik instinctually knew he was being sized up for backbone, and responded to Bakura's glare with posturing of his own. Only when the light flicked to green did Bakura look away, pressing down on the gas carefully so that he wouldn't stomp on it in reaction to his emotions. He wasn't the type for such displays.
"Ka-san is dead," he said in a bland voice, gaze still fixed on the road which blurred by before him, and Malik nodded slightly, not sure Bakura even saw him. He knew vaguely of the tragedy which took the two Touzoku females' lives, but if Mariku knew more than just that it had happened, he hadn't shared that information with his nii-san.
He had assumed Bakura was finished sharing, merely giving that information to stop Malik's prodding, but he continued after a moment, saying, "of course, Otou-san is still alive. Not around, but alive. When Ka-san and Amane-chan…died, he retreated into his work, and got away from our old lives. After dumping us in Japan and making sure we were fluent enough in the language though, he left us alone. We get our monthly cheques, but that's all that's left of his parenting."
It was a sad story, particularly because it was painfully clear that those cheques went towards the Touzoku twins' schooling, food, and emergency cell phones, not towards a big, luxurious house.
Malik wondered vaguely if it was worth asking about why Bakura chose to spend the money on an extended education, when most kids in his situation would have joined the workforce after they graduated from the public program, but decided it wasn't. From the sounds of things, the Touzoku's Otou-san was a business man, and he probably wouldn't approve sending money if it wasn't going towards an education.
But perhaps that was just Malik's own bitter experience with Otou-sans speaking.
"Oh," was what he finally settled on. It was hardly a sympathetic response, but it was the best he could come up with. Bakura seemed to agree that there was no good response to his little story, because he replied to Malik's 'comment' with a both harsh and bitter laugh.
"Not going to apologize? Say you're sorry for my troubles?" He asked nastily, and Malik recognized the familiar technique of trying to make him say something that would be unsatisfactory, just so that Bakura could take out his frustration on him.
It was something he'd seen Mariku employ many, many times since leaving Egypt.
"No," he replied, despite the way everything in him cried out with the desire to argue back. After all, he wasn't the one who abandoned Bakura and Ryou. He didn't kill their ka-san, or make her sick, or whatever it was that happened to her. He didn't deserve for Bakura to take it out on him.
But these things were just what would set the other boy off, so Malik was careful to remain neutral. Bakura's pale hands tightened brutally on the wheel, but could give no response, either.
Feeling a haze of unwanted memories that smelled of blood and decay wafting over his mind, Malik broke the short silence in a quiet voice, as he suddenly said, "Mariku killed our Otou-san when I was ten."
Despite his usual calm, and the almost eerie atmosphere in the car up until now, even Bakura was not impervious to such an announcement. His foot automatically found the break, pushing it to the floor before he could check his reaction. Sticking his hand out the window to the honking cars behind him, Bakura flipped them the bird impatiently, before starting forward again slowly.
"Why are you telling me?" Bakura asked in a suspiciously confused voice, trying hard to focus on the road, and not on Malik's blank expression. It was disturbingly like Mariku's during one of his emotional melt downs. Another good question to ask would be why Mariku hadn't told him about this.
"I know you won't think any differently of nii-san," Malik said with a noncommittal shrug, "I was the one who asked him to do it, after all."
Bakura couldn't help wondering what Malik was feeling, telling him all of this. Obviously nothing good, but it was frustrating being unable to gauge whether it was fear, hurt, or anger that was driving that blank masquerade on his face. Regardless, he felt a flicker of self-importance that he was telling him at all, even if it was for a negative reason.
A larger, more ominous feeling was pressing on his chest though, and he could tell it would have a terrible affect on the kid if he betrayed whatever this trust was. He decided then and there that he would refrain from asking Ryou or Mariku about it, no matter how much he wanted to.
"Why'd you do that?" Bakura asked, knowing it was too casual for such a heavy conversation, but he was no Shakespeare.
"Because I…I wasn't strong enough to do it myself," Malik fumbled to say, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the subject. "And…" A sigh was the closest thing Bakura got to the end of that sentence, and he accepted that.
Malik pressed his temple to the cool glass of the window, allowing it to numb the spread of heat that came with his jumbled emotions on the subject. Bakura didn't press any farther, and Malik didn't offer any more information, either. They just rode like that, in a contemplative silence. Not quite awkward, but not quite compassionate either.
When Bakura finally stopped outside the Ishtar house, Malik forced himself to move reluctantly, wincing as he removed his head from the cold window. Bakura sat by impassively, as the blond dashed inside, gulping down his pill in a flash, before returning to the car.
All that for one pill the size of his thumbnail? Next time, he'd just leave a secret stash in his desk in case he forgot.
The car was moving again, and still not another word had been spoken. Malik could feel the medication taking affect, the world was slowing down, and he bit back a sigh of relief. All those images from his past stopped flashing in his minds eye so rapidly. They were slow enough for him to remember in full, and also remember how foolish those old fears were.
The threatening words his father used to whisper were long gone, and Malik could almost convince himself they were nothing but superstition. Even if they were true, the forty two judges and gods would probably reward him for removing the scum of a man from this life.
Anubis would be skipping with pleasure when he led Malik to the Hall of Two Truths in the House of Osiris.
When Thoth, the god of wisdom, read out all of the deeds of his life, his only criticism would be that Malik didn't act against Otou-san sooner. Malik wouldn't have to speak at all to defend his actions in his life.
Ma'at, the goddess of justice, would lighten her feather of truth in gratitude, so that when he stood upon the scales, all the judges and gods would see that he had not sinned when he begged for Otou-san's death. That it was not a sin, but a righteous choice when the two Ishtar brothers rolled his bloody body into the Nile that night, rather than giving him a proper burial.
It had saved them all from having to judge his Ka, for without any preservation of his body, the river creatures would eat his body right down to the bones, and then even they would turn to sand at the bottom, so his Ka would never be able to return to Ba and torture anyone else.
Even the Devouress of the Dead, Ammit, the one that Otou-san liked to threaten him with when he was a child, the one he awoke screaming in fear of, would not be able to consume such a black and twisted heart like Otou-san's.
At least, these were the stories Mariku told him on their journey over to Japan.
That was a time when Malik still woke up screaming from nightmares though, and as misdirected as Mariku was sometimes, he was still confident at most times that his nii-san was right.
These fantasies were what kept Malik sane sometimes, and while they played over and over in his head, he ignored the world around him.
Bakura noticed his stillness, and, while it disturbed him slightly, he had to admire the way he clamped down on his fly away emotions. Maybe it wasn't healthy, but it was still impressive, especially knowing how bad he was at controlling them at other times. Stopping at a red light, he drummed his fingers on the wheel introspectively, realizing that he had a perfect opportunity here and that he was wasting it.
"Want to get something to eat?" The words snapped Malik out of his daze, and he turned to look at his companion in confusion, though Bakura's gaze was calmly fixated on the road once again.
Where did that question come from? The drive had been so solemn so far…and he wanted to eat?
Sensing these questions, Bakura continued in a voice that masked any nerves he might be experiencing, "we didn't get to eat at school with the other two, and I know how much you love to whine about missing meals. Do you want to stop somewhere to eat before we go back?"
"Um…sure," Malik agreed awkwardly, feeling an unexpected flutter of nerves and excitement inside to accompany his words. Sure, it came with a slight insult, but all the same, this was either Bakura's way of sympathizing, or he was asking him on an impromptu date.
His first thought was, to his own unease, that he kind of wanted it to be a date. Obviously, his little crush was getting worse, and no doubt Bakura could sense it. Did that please the other boy, or was this his way of messing with him more? No, that seemed like too much, even for Bakura. Of course, that didn't mean that this was a date, but it still sent thrills through Malik's insides.
Pulling off to the side, Bakura guided them into the parking lot of a small café that probably sold sandwiches that had too many vegetables and barely any meat, but he could stomach it for a little extra time with Malik. Thank goodness it was the middle of the day in a school zone, and there were few customers, so finding a seat was quick, and a waitress was quick to take up their table.
Bakura smirked silently as she skipped over, knowing she was probably in it for a big gossip tip rather than monetary gain from the way she was sizing the up the two males that were willingly eating together in a girly cafe.
"Hey there, I'm Nosaka Miho, what can I get you?" She chirped, brushing her long purple ponytail back over her shoulder. Girls these days, always dying their hair absurd colors and trying to pass it off as 'natural'. Feh, that only worked in animes and bad yaoi fics.
Glancing at Malik across the table from him, who was still looking a little dazedly confused, Bakura grinned, realizing this did look a little bit like a bad yaoi fic.
"This is our first date," he told the girl bluntly, and she gasped, looking excitedly between the two of them.
"B-Bakura!" Malik stammered, flushing angrily as he glared at his 'friend', who merely chuckled, grabbing his hand across the table, and giving him the fakest goo-goo eyes he could muster. He'd seen Ryou use them enough times, after all.
"Oh, come on, I can't help wanting to tell everyone. It's just that I'm so glad you're mine now, babe," he said, slathering on the sugary sweetness with a spatula, just to get a reaction from Malik. Well, it worked didn't it? He certainly wasn't trapped in his own little world anymore after that rude awakening.
"Oh good grief," Malik snarled with disgust, ripping his hand away from Bakura's pale grasp hastily. Rolling his dark eyes, Bakura turned to look back at their waitress, who was obviously a yaoi fangirl.
"He's shy, but he'll come around," he 'confided' in her, and she cooed her agreement, looking at Malik mischievously.
"Well, your boyfriend shouldn't be so shy, I am very jealous that you have someone as good looking as Bakura-san to brag about you, and fill your every whim," she told him in a heartfelt tone. Malik gave her a ludicrous look, but before he could utterly blow their cover, Bakura quickly dominated her attention again.
"Thank you for the compliment, Nosaka-san, I just want this first date to be an unforgettable one." Malik's glare was back on him, along with her attention, and he continued this line confidently. "I've heard this café has great food, what would you suggest?" He asked smoothly, without even blinking an eye to acknowledge Malik's displeasure.
"Oh, I would be so happy to help Bakura-san," she replied with a giggle, "our best reviews are for the salade d'escargot and the sandwich saumoné à paprika." Bakura had no idea what either of those things were, but could guess at some of the words.
"Well then I guess I'll have the, um, salad, and my partner will have the sandwich," he told her with a false smile, and she tittered her approval before skipping back over to the kitchens.
It took less than ten seconds for Malik to round on him, watching her go distastefully, before turning his glare on Bakura once more.
"You know, I'm surprised your face did split open from that big fake smile you were putting on for her. I wasn't even aware your mouth could stretch that far," he hissed spitefully, getting nothing but a chuckle in reply. "Furthermore, who gave you permission to call me out in public as your…your boyfriend? And to think, she believed you were the type to fill my every whim," he continued to rant in disgust.
"You missed good looking and complimentary," Bakura informed him playfully, and Malik gave a groan of frustration.
"What is wrong with you? Even ordering my food, how…how…"
"Charming and date-like?" Bakura offered dryly.
"No! It's not charming; it's overly controlling, and a lie! Since when do you eat salads anyways?" The Egyptian huffed, extremely flustered by the situation. It was kind of cute, in a warped way.
Just the way Bakura liked his dates...not that he'd really been one before, but if he had to pick, this seemed pretty entertaining to him, and dates were supposed to be fun, right?
"I don't," Bakura agreed, making a face, "but I had to order something, and I don't exactly speak French. Beside, didn't you want some alone time on our date?" He questioned innocently, puckering his lips at Malik, which only furthered his annoyance over the whole 'date' concept. After a minute more of teasing, Malik caught sight of the girl returning with their two plates, and sunk down in his seat.
"Oh great, here she comes," he grumbled, and Bakura winked at him, just to rile him up all over again.
"Ah, here you go, I hope you enjoy!" She cooed, placing the food in front of the two, along with two large glasses of water, before hesitating slightly. Giving Bakura a concerned look, she pranced over to Malik's other side, and leaned down to whisper something in his ear.
Whatever she had said obviously alarmed him, much to Bakura's amusement; because he sat bolt upright with a startled noise, before quickly snapping out a vehement, "No!"
"Miho-chan was just wondering, don't worry Bakura-san's boyfriend, I'm sure he will later if that is not the case now! Perhaps tonight, hmm~?" She questioned, dancing back out of reach with a suggestive giggle. "Well, please enjoy ~!" With this last, she was gone again, over to harass some other customers, most likely. Bakura cocked an eyebrow at his 'date' who, if possible, looked even more flustered than before.
"Please tell me you didn't just turn down a threesome," he stated, knowing just how it would affect Malik, and sure enough, the blond exploded.
"No, she did not offer me a threesome, you lewd freak, and I would have turned it down even if she did, I'm not a whore," he cried out against the snub. Grinning with predatory grace, Bakura congratulated himself internally. He had the kid right where he needed him.
"So, if not that, then what was it she said, my dear?" He asked, and Malik swallowed bitterly, seeing that he had no choice. After all, no doubt Bakura would parade his threesome theory around until he confessed.
Blushing miserably, he did so, relaying, "she asked if I was so 'put out' because you hadn't told me you loved me yet." Bakura snickered rudely, revealing a flash of canine before taking a swallow of what was likely tap water.
"Oh, my little muffin is unhappy because I haven't told him of me deep, desirous feelings for him? And she thought maybe I would while I was riding you tonight?" He asked in a far too sugary voice, and Malik shuddered.
"Don't say it like it's actually going to happen, you creep. That's what she was implying, but like I told her, she was wrong," he said sternly, glaring at Bakura, who could barely choke back his laughter now. Sick of seeing him getting all the enjoyment, Malik upped the anti, as he added: "besides, even if I was going to degrade myself to jumping in the sack with you of all people tonight, I would be the one doing you, not the other way around."
Bakura's laughter was immediately sucked out of him, narrowing his red tinted eyes at his Egyptian, secretly loving every second of the exchange. It was this competitive spirit that was so attractive to him.
"Oh? You really think that I, with a vast amount of experience and superior muscle, couldn't have you screaming my name all night long?" Malik again felt a rush to his stomach –and perhaps a little lower, if he was honest, but honesty was overrated in his opinion.
"You're disgusting," Malik grumbled, snatching up his sandwich irritably.
"But you would let me make you my bitch?" Bakura asked teasingly, just as the kid bit into his food.
Immediately gagging on it, Malik began to cough, practically hacking up a lung in shock at those brazen words. Lunging for his glass, he chugged about three quarters of it before he could speak again.
"You…you…who said anything about making anyone a bitch? Who said anything about actually doing anything together?" He demanded, setting down his glass gingerly. Bakura, once he'd stopped laughing, looked up at the kid with great amusement on his face, possibly in the best mood Malik had ever seen him in.
"I was just having a little fun, I know you're not going to let me close enough to touch for at least a month now," Bakura said derisively with a snort of disbelief, as he looked down at his rather unappealing plate.
"Definitely not if you've been eating snails. Those things smell," Malik commented, wrinkling his noise delicately. Bakura didn't look very happy about it either.
"Well, here's to never finding out which of us would be on top…yet," Bakura said with a salute in the form a wink, before stabbing up some lettuce and snails and shoving them into his mouth.
"Eww, I can't believe you're actually eating snails," Malik said, nearly gagging in disgust.
"Oh, shut up," Bakura retorted, swallowing, "you sound like a girl. Just eat your sandwich, bitch."
"I'm not your" –
"I know, I know, you're not a bitch, or a fruit, you're just a very effeminate, whiny kid who is on a fake date with his sexy upperclassman who he secretly wants to bang tonight, despite being a virgin," Bakura corrected his comment snidely, rolling his eyes again, before taking another bite.
Malik was quiet a moment, and then said, "I'm not a virgin."
"And I should believe this…why?" Bakura asked, giving him a challenging look that Malik struggled not to rise to.
"Because, darling, if you're my fake date, you should be trying to please me, so why don't you just accept that I'm telling the truth for once?" Malik snarled back, and Bakura chuckled, having successfully gotten Malik somewhat into accepting that this was a sort of very messed up date, which had been his goal all along. That and getting the kid all hot and bothered was just too much fun (though he was sure Malik would deny the hot part until his dying day).
"But baby, I was hoping to be your one and only, now I can't ever do you," Bakura whined back, trying to act girly, and got a half laugh, half snort out of his 'date'.
"You're ridiculous, you know that? Admit it, you would do me in a second if I let you," Malik responded in exasperation.
"Probably," Bakura admitted, once again perfectly timed with Malik taking a huge bite of his sandwich.
This time, however, he only succeeded in getting a strange look from the boy, before he began coughing again, swallowing hard.
"Oh, Ra, what did you order, Bakura? My tongue is burning," Malik complained between coughs, drinking what was left of his water –which, due to Bakura's behaviour earlier, wasn't much.
"Um, she said something about paprika," Bakura replied, watching with amusement as Malik tried desperately to cool what was evidently an overdose of paprika.
"Don't…don't just laugh! Do something!" Malik demanded, face flushing.
"Like what? Put the fire out with my tongue? I think that would just get you more hot, not cool you down," Bakura continued teasing, obviously not taking this as seriously as his suffering Egyptian was. Finally, after letting him beg a little more, Bakura pressed his own mostly untouched glass into Malik's tanned hand, so that he could chug it down desperately.
"Oh, Ra…that's much better," Malik sighed, slowly putting the glass back down, and looking at the remains of his sandwich. Thank to that extra large bite, there wasn't much left, anyways. "Well, I don't think I'll be eating anymore of that…thanks, I guess," he said grudgingly to his companion, who'd spent far too much time laughing and not enough time helping to be deserving of any real gratitude.
Just as he handed the glass back, Bakura's long, pale fingers brushed his, and Malik's face suddenly contorted with alarm, dropping the glass entirely. Bakura fumbled, and managed to snatch it up, placing it down safely before glaring at Malik.
"What's your problem, butter fingers?" He snapped, and Malik just gave him a comically embarrassed look.
"Well…you drank from that…and then I drank from it…so…so I basically did kiss you," he moaned like that was the worst thing he could possibly imagine. Bakura gave him a disbelieving look, and then rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation.
"Oh please, Malik, we just had a whole conversation about who would be more dominant in bed, and you're freaking out because of a supposed indirect kiss?" Malik flushed brighter, and looked away stubbornly.
"I could give you a real one, if that makes you feel better," Bakura offered, tone quickly becoming sultry and getting Malik's attention once more.
"No thanks," he said in weak imitation of his usual heated protest. Really, all his fuss was because alarm bells were going off in his head over the fact that he didn't really mind the indirect kiss, and the idea of a real kiss was…well…almost appealing, actually.
Hormones, he told himself firmly, I obviously haven't been satisfying them lately, and, being a teenaged boy, they're just targeting the most willing participant.
Right…that didn't even make a whole lot of sense inside his head.
"Well, if you insist on being anorexic to keep that fine figure of yours, than we should head back," Bakura commented, nonplussed about the idea of returning to Mariku and Ryou. Maybe it was terrible of him, but whatever, he was enjoying this time with Malik. The kid was just so…entertaining, and unpredictable.
"What? I am not anorexic! I'm naturally skinny!" Malik proclaimed with pride, ignoring Bakura's small compliment. He was starting to realize half of his 'insults' were compliments in some way or another.
"Upchucking isn't the way to go either," Bakura teased, and Malik stuck his tongue out at him immaturely, before smiling slightly.
"Fine, be like that, at least get the waitresses attention so we can get out of here, its way too hot," he said, tugging uncomfortably at his collar. Bakura raised an eyebrow; he actually found it quite cool in the café, but it wasn't that significant.
"Don't bother," was all he said, standing up and reaching into his bag. From it, he produced a small black tray, a scrap of white paper, a business card that was emblazoned TK in red, and a few dimes.
"Is that your idea of a tip?" Malik questioned, watching his friend at work, only to be shot a secretive grin.
"No, but it is Thief King Touzoku-sama's greatest gift. No one will suspect this layout until we're long gone," he said proudly, and Malik gasped slightly at his audacity.
"Bakura, you wouldn't really" –
"Cheat a perfectly popular café out of a couple dollars from two poor high school students? Yes, I certainly would," Bakura said, matter-of-factly. Well, when he put it like that…
"Are you sure they won't notice?" Malik whispered, looking around suspiciously. Bakura reached out to cuff the back of his head, earning a whine from his 'date' and a glare to go with it.
"They will if you keep acting so suspicious. Trust me, appearance is everything to a good thief," he assured the Egyptian, tossing him a wink before slinging his bag over his shoulder and marching right out the door with a big smile on his face for all the world to see.
And, since he had no money of his own with him, Malik followed, feeling a new appreciation as he saw the Thief King himself at work.
A/N: Abrupt cut-offs for the win! Sorry about that, but it was starting to get pretty long, and I want you all to have something to read next week when this date starts to get really interesting ;) Especially because this chapter...kind of sucked...in fact, I really hated it, the whole thing just seemed extremely awkward to me. Hopefully it wasn't that bad for all of you...Anyways, I'm sure you all haven't forgotten about the fish I mentioned before, and it hasn't made it's great debut yet, so get ready, cause it's coming to next Tuesday ~! ;) (Also, my French is nonexistant, and I just used what I remembered from World Religion class and what google could tell me for this chapter...nobody kill me if I got something wrong!)