A/N: Okay, so first off, big apology! I went to the Land of Death for over a week, and there's no internet there (thus, the land of death) and I finally came back and, as I told many of you my review replies, found that my internet decided to flop here as well. So, the repair man came and fixed the cable, and fixed the phone and blah, blah, blah, and then he left and I went to check my email…and the internet was STILL gone! And then he came back again today and was super nice and fixed it up, so I'm actually getting it up semi-on time! Anyways…please enjoy this new chapter!
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
Sliding into the car, Malik couldn't help but take one last nervous glance inside the café, and nearly jumped out the window when he saw a familiar purple ponytail.
"Oh, relax, kid, she can't see you. The only way should would is if you keep acting so frantic; I'm shocked you don't have the whole café's eyes on you already," Bakura chastised, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and yanking him to face to front of the car again.
Malik gave a whine of displeasure, rubbing a hand across his chest gingerly.
"Don't be a sissy; Ryou gives me enough grief for this little trick. Or has he gotten that stick too far up your ass already?" Bakura mocked mercilessly with a savage grin, as he put the car in gear and pulled out, nearly hitting a pedestrian.
She swore at him, as her groceries spewed all over the road, and Bakura returned the favour, waving with his middle finger and tapping his horn for affect as he pulled out into the street.
"Geez, you're one to talk. For one, I don't like things up my ass the way you evidently do, and for another, if you're trying to make it obvious we're running away from the scene of the crime, why don't you hit a few more people on the way?" Malik snapped, still rubbing his chest in a distracting way.
Not because he was trying to seduce Bakura or anything, like they hadn't had enough sexual implications yet today, but because it hurt. Was Bakura purposefully being violent, or was that ache coming from inside his chest? Ra, his body couldn't take anymore stress today.
"Up my ass? I think we've had this conversation already; I don't take anything up the ass. Besides, I haven't had sex in forever anyways, you bastard," Bakura grumbled with a stormy frown, as he slammed on the gas in order to squeeze through the yellow light and onto the highway ramp.
Malik let out a half strangled cough, tugging the seatbelt away from his body. Was it locked? No, it just felt tighter than normal for some reason.
"B-bastard? How the…how the hell is you not getting laid my fault?" Malik sputtered, and Bakura's frown deepened as he listened to the boy cough.
"You bloody well know why," Bakura started, only for Malik to cut him off with, "Ra, is it hot in here, or is it just me?"
Bakura fell silent for a moment, actually wondering if his ADHD had suddenly returned. A glance to his right told him this wasn't the case, as Malik's face was twisted in an expression of unease.
"Normally, I'd take the opportunity to drop a line, but you actually do look hot, and not in the attractive way," Bakura commented distastefully, slowing the car down to 100.
Malik let out a wheezing breath which might have been discontent or agreement, Bakura wasn't sure, but it wasn't normal. His face was shiny with sweat and flushed a bright pink.
"Are you getting car sick? Cause this car has enough stains as is," Bakura jibed lightly to hide his concern over Malik's rapidly deteriorating condition.
"You…you're sick, you know that?"
"No…I think you're the sick one," Bakura said slowly, glancing again at his face.
"Maybe you're…oh Ra, pull over," Malix blurted suddenly.
"What, right" –he had barely started to argue when Malik let out a startling moan that wasn't so much erotic as scary, and Bakura wasn't an easy scare.
The speedometer dropped to 60 in a matter of seconds, and seconds after that they were on the side of the road. Malik scrambled with his seatbelt and managed to tumble out before his lunch made a rude reappearance.
Bakura winced at the violent sound of retching, and felt his own stomach gurgle in revulsion. Figuring that this wasn't the friendliest response to his friend's apparent agony, he unclipped his own seatbelt, and forced himself to slide over to Malik's side of the car.
Leaning part way out, he nearly ducked back inside when he saw the puddle of mush lying by the side of the road. With a sigh, he forced himself to step out, gingerly avoiding the mess, because otherwise he'd have to live with Malik believing he really didn't care for him at all, or, even worse, believing he was too much of a girl to deal with some puking.
By the time he'd gotten a good look at Malik, he was already glad he'd decided to get out of the car. For one thing, Malik didn't look like he was going to be getting back in the car any time soon, judging by the way he was hunched over, and for another, the kid was a total mess.
Not his clothing, the kid had enough presence of mind to not make a mess of himself, thank goodness, but the 'carsickness' hadn't abated once the car stopped moving. Sure, Bakura had been driving fast, but not so fast as to bring on this reaction when Malik had had no reaction this morning or earlier this afternoon.
The kid let out another pitiful moan, and Bakura hesitantly reached out to touch his shoulder, not sure what to do, and then pulled back with alarm. Malik's skin was hot even through his shirt, and he was sweating way too much for a simple anxiety attack –Bakura would know, seeing as Ryou had them on a regular basis.
On top of that, he seemed to be having trouble breathing, or settling his stomach.
"Sorry…" Malik mumbled, clenching his teeth against the stomach pain.
"Get back in the car; I'm taking you to the hospital," Bakura said shortly. Those skeletons just would not stay in the closet today; memories from a time far too similar to this were pushing their way into his mind no matter how he tried to keep them out.
This must be how Ryou feels all the time, Bakura grumbled internally, fighting the senseless fear back.
"N-no, just take me…home. It was probably the…sandwich. I'm allergic to fish," Malik explained haltingly, making a face as though he was allergic to the very word fish.
Bakura struggled to recall what the waitress had said in French when he was ordering, but knew it was hopeless to try and figure out since he hadn't understood it when she'd first said it anyways.
Still…that did make it his responsibility. Again.
God, he needed to stop getting in trouble because of this kid.
"Fish?" He couldn't help asking sceptically. Of all the random ass things he could have been allergic to, why did it have to be fish?
"I hope that doesn't offend…koneko," Malik panted, shooting Bakura a half-hearted smirk.
"Fuck you, I'm not a kitty. I should leave you here and give you some time to work on your manners," Bakura shot back, but felt his indignation crumble, as Malik gave another pitiful whimper.
Time to get out of here before he started crying or something; if that happened, Bakura would really be at a loss. Circling around behind the blond, he hooked one arm under his knees and the other behind his back.
"That's tora to you, kid," he mumbled, lifting his body up, bridal style.
"I-I can…walk," Malik tried to splutter, cut off half way by a wheezing cough.
"Stop struggling; it's hard enough lifting someone taller than me, and I'll drop you on your head if keep moving," Bakura ordered in frustration, though it succeeded in getting Malik to settle down.
Manoeuvring him into the car wasn't as difficult thanks to the way both boys had left the door hanging open, and Malik could do nothing but wince when Bakura dropped him into the bucket seat.
"Thanks," he said quietly, and Bakura jerked his head before slamming the door shut to hide his own tell-tale expression of worry. The kid really was hot in a very un-sexy way.
Skirting around the front of the car, he sidled around the other side, pressing himself as close as possible to the door. He had no desire to become 18-wheeler road kill. Careful as he was, he still breathed a silent sigh of relief when he got the door shut.
Not because he feared for his own life; any regular car that were to hit him would be smashed, regardless of the laws of physics, but the door of this junk bucket…well, insurance was hard enough to afford as it was, and yet another set of stupid laws decreed that it was his fault if another car clipped his door on the way by.
"That was probably dangerous," Malik said in a voice that was little more than a whisper, as he gingerly held his seatbelt away from his body.
"Shut up or I'm taking you straight to the hospital," he ordered, and Malik did shut up, but Bakura got the feeling it was more because talking was too difficult than because he feared going to the hospital.
The car was started up again, and Bakura forced himself to drive the speed limit, though Malik could easily see that the situation was grinding down his patience by the way his hands looked ready to rip off the steering wheel.
He couldn't know it, but inside, Bakura's head was a whirlwind of half baked thoughts mixed with unpleasant memories and carefully concealed fears. Every second they spent in this car he had to listen to the quite wheeze in Malik's breath, and fight the urge to turn around and drive straight to the hospital.
Amane's breath had gotten weak like that right before she died, too.
He shuddered, trying to refocus on the road, but it was difficult when the memories were coming on thick. Unlike Ryou, he was fairly successful at rationalizing away any guilt about the accident.
Yes, he had opened the door for their 'visitor' that afternoon, and yes, he wished he had put up more of a fight, but he was only nine, what was he supposed to be, superman? It wasn't a matched fight, and he knew that now as well as he had then.
Still…the situations may not be similar, but he cared for Malik on more than one level, and it went against his instincts to let him suffer. The feeling that he was making the wrong choice by driving back to the Ishtar house wouldn't leave him alone.
His only slight reassurance was that this time he wouldn't have to live with any guilt, because Mariku would probably kill him if anything happened to his nii-san on Bakura's watch.
"Malik," he asked in a grim tone, sizing up a yellow light that dared to defy him. Malik winced and shut his eyes, possibly because he didn't want to see the truck which honked loudly and nearly turned them into a car-and-human sandwich.
"Yes?" He asked meekly, and Bakura shot him a piercing glare that stole what little breath was left in his aching chest.
"Tell me you are absolutely certain you have medication at your house which will fix this," a vague wave of his ghostly white hand indicated Malik's severe symptoms.
Malik answered quickly, again, possibly because he felt they had a better chance of surviving Bakura's reckless driving if both of the boy's hands were on the wheel.
"Yes, as long as I don't start choking or swelling up, Benadryl works to knock me out and alleviate the symptoms," he assured his 'date' who nodded again, still not looking convinced, but a little less like he was on the verge of calling 9-1-1.
Parking hastily outside the Ishtar house, Bakura was out of the car and by Malik's side, ready to carry him into the house to get the medication. How the tables did turn from their last trip here for meds…Malik's body clearly didn't appreciate itself very much.
"Don't," Malik snapped, trying for some of his usually spunk. Bakura stepped back and let him cough, wheeze, and stumbled his way to the front porch like a drunk man, but he couldn't help hovering closely behind.
Needless to say, Malik's fevered mind wasn't entirely focused, but he was somewhat disturbed by the sudden change in behaviour.
Bakura normally seemed to be so aloof and cold despite his moments of flirtation, but this appeared to be genuine concern that didn't hint at personal gain at all. It was confusing, and a little creepy.
He couldn't decide if it was more like being followed by death's angel, just waiting for him to drop dead, or an overbearing ka-san, the likes of which Malik had certainly never had.
His ka-san died when he was born, and his foster ka-san was something of a sympathetic collector of orphaned Egyptians.
Not purposefully, but the government provided foster parents with a little extra cash for raising children, and they tried to match ethnic backgrounds together –that was how he ended up with an additional Egyptian 'nii-san' and 'nee-san', though they had moved out of the house when they got old enough.
These thoughts distracted him from the growing pain in his cramped and stewing stomach until he made it to the door of his room, but that was where he finally broke down and made a dash for the bathroom.
He was vaguely aware of Bakura standing somewhere behind him again, seeming just as awkward and unsure of what to do as he had earlier, and found the slightly amusing thought relaxing in a strange way.
At least he wasn't the only uncomfortable one; he couldn't imagine Bakura had much practice being compassionate –it was probably painful for him to refrain from any sarcastic comments over such a long stretch of time.
His body continued to purge itself long after it got all the contaminants out of his system, but hey, a person could only throw up so much bile.
When the head spinning puking spells finally stopped, Malik heaved himself to his feet, grudgingly accepting the cool glass of water that Bakura offered him. Ra, he felt pathetic.
After washing away the burning aftertaste of stomach bile, Malik made to walk towards the bathroom cabinet, only to end up back on the floor. Wow…the tiles didn't normally spin that way.
Maybe his fever was worse than he initially suspected.
Bakura was immediately crouched beside him, supporting his upper body by hooking him into a double arm bar from behind.
"I told you upchucking wasn't the way to go; you're a total mess, kid," Bakura said quietly in his ear, and Malik winced, as he tried to make his mouth form an argument.
"Your fault," he managed in a hoarse voice, before pressing a hand to his chest, which seemed intent on being too tight for him to breathe, let alone speak.
"Fine, I'll pick on you when you're not delirious," Bakura huffed in fake impatience, dragging himself to his feet with his crush in-tow.
Malik felt like a sack of potatoes –a really miserable, really breathless sack of potatoes that could hear its pride being shredded somewhere in the distance.
To his surprise, Bakura seemed to sense this, because he backed off from his arm bar hold as soon as he was sure Malik was steady enough on his feet.
"Now, get your ass in bed and I'll bring you the Benadryl," he ordered, though he averted his gaze to hide the insecurity on his face. He was good at teasing, flirting, stealing, and damn good in bed –he was not, however, at all good at this caring thing.
It was weird, and made him feel like a pansy.
"Okay," Malik replied with a cough, and proceeded to shuffle off towards his room which was only just down the hall.
It was a good thing Bakura gave him a head start, because his dizzy, faltering steps got him to his bed just barely before Bakura was there with more two pills and another glass of water in hand.
He handed them over silently, and Malik choked them down, relieved to find that his throat hadn't swollen shut, and that the tightness was purely in his chest.
While watching him gulp the water, Bakura suddenly said, "You should have told me you were allergic to fish. If I had known, I wouldn't have to be standing here feeling like Ryou."
Malik choked and nearly spat out the water, making Bakura jump slightly, before realizing the kid was actually laughing. Someone owed him big time for letting his nerves get fried like this.
"You…like Ryou? Yah right," Malik replied as easily as he could, "Ryou would have already made me hot soup and bought me a TV so I could watch Soaps while I recovered."
Bakura chuckled a little at the image, relieved Malik clearly didn't think that he had overreacted. All a thief had was his reputation, after all.
"Alright well, that shit should knock you out, so I don't think I'm taking you back to school," Bakura mused aloud.
"Bad enough puking in front of just you anyways," Malik agreed hoarsely, drawing his knees up to his chin with a shiver.
Frowning at this, Bakura added, "I may not be a nurse, but I'm pretty sure people with fevers are supposed to lie down and rest."
Malik rolled his eyes, but didn't bother arguing, his whole body felt exhausted and painful, not to mention it was much harder to breathe when he was sitting. Even when he was lying down flat, he could hear the air rattling in his lungs, and wheezing as it escaped between his teeth, despite his attempts to clench them against the chattering.
"Y-you're not going to t-tell Ryou or Mariku are you?" Malik asked, looking over at Bakura with a shameful look on his face, as he tried to keep from shivering too noticeably. He failed miserably, but at least he tried.
"They're probably going to notice when neither of us show up back at school, though Mariku at least will probably think the sexual tension got to you and we're just shacking up," Bakura replied, smirking lightly at Malik, who merely raised an eyebrow.
"Y-you're not" –
"No, I'm not," Bakura said, cutting him off definitively. The glare on his face said the question was closed, and Malik decided nothing more needed to be said.
It seemed that even intense fever and nausea couldn't stop the pleasant thrill from his insides when Bakura made it clear that he wasn't planning on leaving his side any time soon.
Of course, as soon as Malik thought it, Bakura gave him one last cursory glance, and then walked right out of the room.
What the…? Was the fever making him hallucinate? No, that'd never happened before, and this reaction was no worse than any other. What was Bakura doing, actually making him soup? Hah, yah right, like this amount of kindness wasn't stretching him to his limits anyways.
Though…it was a little sweet that he tried to show he cared, even a little bit. The thought would have brought a flush to Malik's cheeks if it hadn't been so damn cold.
Ra, his body felt like an icicle!
If he wasn't hallucinating before, Malik became convinced that he was when Bakura came in with his face hidden but what appeared to be a pink fluffy blanket.
When his poof of white hair appeared above the mess of blankets again, he shot a defiant glare at Malik's confounded expression.
"You said your nee-san moved out, so unless this is Mariku's, I don't think anyone's going to mind if you borrow it," he grunted in way of explanation, and though it wasn't the most poetic, it was, once again, almost sweet in a brusque way.
"It's pink," Malik argued pathetically, and Bakura rolled his eyes, as he dropped the blanket on the floor with a derisive snort.
"The medicine's going to put you in la-la land soon enough, so quit your bitching. Besides, you suck at pretending to be tough, you're freezing your ass off thanks to that fever of yours," Bakura pointed out with ease, as he shrugged off his school jacket and undid the buttons of his shirt with one hand.
Oh Ra, either he really was hallucinating, or Bakura had decided now would be a good time to do a striptease and show off his well worked torso.
He wasn't built like Mariku, or lean like Malik, but somewhere in between –a really sexy middle ground. Turning his head away quickly, Malik cursed the awkward situation, and a second later, he felt the warmth of the blanket settling around his body.
Closing his eyes, it solved the problem of not seeing a half naked Bakura, and also of revelling in the warmth it provided –right up until Bakura decided to crawl up onto the bed as well and wrap his arms around the Egyptian's slender waist.
"K-Kura, what are you doing?" Malik demanded, startling as he struggled slightly to get out of the embrace, though Bakura's arms merely tightened, pulling Malik's back into closer alignment with his bare chest.
His chin settled on the other boy's shoulder, and he mumbled, "I might as well keep you warm until you pass out."
The words seemed to rumble across his chest into Malik's back, and the sensation was far from unpleasant. He couldn't help relax in that warm, secure embrace. Dipping his head, he pressed his cheek to Bakura's, enjoying the soft give of his warm skin.
"Why are you being so nice?" He asked quietly, and he felt Bakura shrug behind him.
"I told you I was hot for you," was the simple reply.
"I…I didn't think you were serious," Malik admitted, still not sure he believed that Bakura really understood what it meant to say he actually, romantically cared for someone.
Another shrug was his only response, and a tightening of Bakura's arms around his midriff. Not like Malik was going anywhere, but he didn't mind. It felt…right, somehow.
Ra was going to smite him down for being so cheesy.
The seconds ticked past, and Malik appreciated Bakura's proffered warmth more and more, as his shivers subsided.
When he was just starting to feel the slightest bit sleepy, Bakura's voice suddenly whispered in his ear, "Amane."
Malik could hear sadness etched into the very word when Bakura said it, and felt curiosity stir within him. The good thing about Bakura was that he wouldn't answer if he didn't feel like it, so Malik didn't have to worry about crossing lines.
Not to mention Bakura wasn't the most sensitive person either. Perhaps, Malik was just making up excuses, but he had to ask anyways.
"Who's that?" He whispered back.
"My nee-san. She was just little, so she was my responsibility and…and she died when I was supposed to be taking care of her and ka-san," Bakura responded quietly, almost pulling off a factual tone, except for his small pause when he talked about her death.
He and Ryou did that a lot whenever it was brought up, Malik had noticed, almost as though they were ashamed of the details. It wouldn't surprise him coming from Ryou, but Bakura…?
"It probably wasn't your fault," Malik pointed out.
The Touzoku twins were what, seventeen now? And this happened before Mariku met them? They couldn't have been over eleven at the time; he found it hard to believe it was any fault of theirs.
"You're right," Bakura responded with a heavy sigh that ruffled the blonde's hair, "it probably wasn't, but there's always the chance that it was."
Malik tensed at the words, suddenly feeling the pieces fall into place in his foggy mind. Shutting his eyes briefly, he forced his body to roll over so that he could see Bakura's face.
Bakura raised himself up on his arms so that Malik could lay back comfortably, looking down at him uncertainly, as though to ask where he was going with this.
Malik certainly wasn't unaware of their proximity and Bakura's half-nakedness, but he tried to ignore that fact for the moment.
Licking his dry lips, he tried to sound stronger than he felt, as he said, "I'm not dying, 'Kura."
"You better not be," Bakura responded instantly with a harsh glare, though his gruff tone gave him away, "I would never forgive you if you did."
Malik started to laugh lightly, but felt it slipping away as he locked eyes with Bakura's dark gaze. Sometimes it was cold, sometimes mysterious, and sometimes…almost on the brink of being warm if you squinted enough and tried really hard to see past his neutral expression.
Like right now.
The gaze flickered to the Egyptian's pinkish-brown lips, which looked inappropriately delicious at the moment, and then returned to his surprisingly clear expression. Leaning forward slightly, Bakura gently pushed the so-far mostly friendly border they had going on, and Malik did nothing to stop him.
He couldn't even catch a cliché, romantic breath due to his overreacting immune system. The urge to kiss him increased, and, after deciding the kid wasn't delirious from the fever or medication, Bakura slowly closed the distance, feeling a rush of relief upon connecting with those soft, slightly parted lips.
Exotic and luscious, just like his imagination had pictured them, although a little unnaturally warm from the fever.
Malik was sure his heart would pound it's way of his ribs, as Bakura pressed there lips together in a gentle fashion that he would never have expected from the harsh Thief King.
The moment was drawn out for several delicious seconds, before Bakura finally pulled away inch by inch, torturing Malik's mind along with the rest of his suffering body. Another heavy sigh came from above him, and Malik opened his eyes a crack, seeing Bakura's conflicted gaze retreating faster now.
"I probably shouldn't have done that," Bakura mumbled, though he couldn't bring himself to regret it just yet. Maybe he would later, but he was already doubting that thought, as Malik smiled just a little bit, and buried his face into his 'date's' chest with a muffled laugh.
"No, you probably shouldn't have taken advantage of a doped up sick person," he agreed, not sounding all that bothered by it either, despite his words. Bakura chuckled just a little as well, struck by the strangeness of the situation.
First, he was jealous this morning, then he was actually concerned for the kid's health, and just now he'd kissed him even knowing how inappropriate it was, given the situation.
In spite of all that, Malik was peaking up at him with one violet iris; face still buried shyly in his very warm, very bare chest, not even putting up a fight against Bakura's forwardness.
Very strange, indeed.
Settling back down on the bed, Bakura pulled a grateful Malik back to their comfortable, original position so that they were back to front. Considering what he had just accepted from the Thief King, Malik didn't feel so guilty about enjoying the security of Bakura's embrace this time around.
It was making it easy for the medicine to take hold of his battered body, and coax his sleepy brain into a fog that would inevitably lead to sleep.
Bakura continued to hold him the whole time, tracing patterns on the walls, as he listened to Malik's wheezing breathing becoming slowly even and clear. Bakura wished he could just fall asleep, but his mind was strangely clear after their conversation and that kiss.
He wasn't sure what had struck him, but he just had to kiss him in that moment.
Whether it was their conversation about Amane, their sudden closeness, the look on his face, or a combination of all the bizarre events that had taken place today, Bakura wasn't sure, but he knew his willpower to resist his frustrating crush was getting thinner every day.
The kiss wasn't likely to mean anything after today; Malik was still too insecure about himself, and obviously insecure about Bakura's feelings as well.
Bakura knew this, and yet, still felt no regret.
He still had Malik tucked in his arms for now, and he still had the memory of their lips pressed together, not to mention the pride of being all but certain he was the first male to have kissed the kid.
He chose to dwell on that, rather than their ominous earlier conversations, or the miserable truth that this parade was far from finished. Pride was a far more enjoyable emotion, and gloating was one thing no one had ever accused him of being bad at.
Who was he to argue if it happened to come with a kiss?
A/N: So…did anyone guess the fish twist? Or the fact that their car trouble would be Malik throwing up? Nobody said so if they did! Oh, and also, for anyone who may be wondering, "koneko" means kitty and "tora" means tiger, so basically Malik was referencing the fact that kitties love fish, and obviously he doesn't. So...any questions or comments are welcome as always! :)