This is the second post of this fanfiction. The first attempt cannot be found anymore, since my first account [crimson amnesia] was hacked into by Thelma and Louise. So, everyone, please be careful! It would be very unpleasant indeed if anyone else was submitted to the torture of seeing all of your fanfics go bye-bye...
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!. Takahashi Kazuki {?} does.
WARNINGS: Shounen ai {Yami Bakura + Ryou Bakura}. Foul language. Yami Bakura could be considered disturbed. *cough*plastic utensils*cough*
Dedicated to Neko-chan, who was very supportive and very nice to me. ^_^ And to everyone whose account was also hacked into by Thelma and/or Louise. Or anyone, for that matter. Good luck to you all and I hope you post again! ^_^
~rain-streaked
*
Sigh.
//Are you sure I can't kill anyone? I can make it quick. And painless!//
/For the umpteenth time, Yami, NO./
//How about stealing a soul or two? Just two.//
/Oh, by Ra. NO!!/
+++
A Wine Kiss
by rain-streaked [crimson amnesia]
+++
Ryou Bakura glowered. And glared. And then, after grinding his teeth together, he ventured forward.
Anyone who saw his pained, angry expressions would think it was Yami Bakura instead of Ryou Bakura. But Yami Bakura was standing beside Ryou, wearing an amused, fascinated, quite evil-looking grin--or is that a smirk?
If one were able to hear their thoughts, they would understand the sudden switch in characteristic expressions.
*
//Hikari, look! Paper streamers! Remember? In that baka pharaoh's hikari's birthday party, we found out it was very flammable. Do you have a match?//
A huge migrain--to which Ryou swore that it was the size of Hokkaido--appeared suddenly. /Yes, I remember,/ he ground out venomously. /And no, I do not have a match. And before you ask, no, I don't have a lighter or a flamethrower either./
//Hmm... Hey look! Yami Malik is here!//
And with that, the a-bit-more-than-slightly deranged yami took off towards the murderous blondes.
Si~i~igh.
*
Why in the world did I agree to come to this... this... place with that... that... abomination?!
Yes. I, Ryou Bakura, have made the ultimate mistake of bringing my yami to a formal party.
A formal party.
With ties, suits, and everything.
So understandably, when I stepped into the 'ballroom' with my yami as my 'escort' wearing a faded pair of jeans and plain t-shirt, I attracted a lot of eyes.
Not as much as my yami did, though. He was wearing tight black jeans with a gray shirt. This gray shirt in question had suspiscious splotches all over it.
I must be in hell.
*
Stupid hikari.
--...no, Mr. Somethingorother, I prefer knives as my weapon of choice.
Baka.
--...Why? Because they are sharp. And shiny! Shiiiiiiny...
How dare he drag me to this... place!
--...Yes, and they are bloodier than these metal contraptions you foolish mortals call guns. See these bloodstains? ...Fucking mortal, you're supposed to look at the person who's talking.
LOOK!
Stupid, baka, dumb, idiot mortals.
I must be in some sort of hell.
Fuck.
*
Ryou Bakura's smile, which looked suspisciously like a disguised grimace--which it was, but who are we to talk?-- stayed in place for the first half an hour.
By the second half of the hour, Ryou Bakura's smiling eyes did not look like they were smiling at all. Instead, it looked exactly like what it was supposed to be: an angry, pissed glare.
/YAMI! Don't you DARE try to stab that man's heart out with a plastic knife!!/
*
I veered away from the sight of Yami's bloodthirsty smile and instead proceeded to the refreshment table, where a total of 17 people--eight of them guys--asked me if I wanted to dance.
After politely refusing them (Yami was staring at one guy with a dangerous glint in his eyes), I finally had some peace.
...Well, sort of.
/YAMI! DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT SENDING THAT GIRL'S SOUL TO THE SHADOW REALM!!/
*
Groan. Sigh. Groan. Sigh. GLARE.
"Fuck off, bastard."
*
"Hey Ryou!" Yuugi walked towards the exhausted teen, waving happily. (Is that relief I see in his eyes? Ryou thought.) He was, quite understandably, moving sort of sluggishly, considering the fact that his yami was firmly glued to his side, glaring dangerously at anyone who even dared to set eyes upon his treasure.
"Yuugi! Finally, someone I recognize!" Ryou hesitantly ran his gaze across Yuugi and his yami.
Leather. Tight, body-hugging, black leather.
And I thought I was bad...
And buckles. One... two... Well, a lot of buckles.
I wonder how much time it took to put all of those on...
"So, umm... where's... Yami... Bakura?" Yuugi asked uneasily.
Ryou needlessly pointed a pale, shaky finger towards the table where the utensils were placed.
All could see Yami Bakura discreetly stuffing plastic knives into his pants' pocket.
*
Giggle. Chuckle. A loud, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" stopped all laughter--and movement--within hearing distance.
Nervous, nervous laugh. "Just ignore my escort," Ryou hissed.
//Hikari, I'm getting a headache. And when I get headaches...//
/Shut up and dance!/
*
Exhaustion finally led Ryou Bakura and his miffed yami towards the wine table. There, two giggling adults were avidly disgusting--I mean discussing--wine.
"You know, when you take a sip of wine then kiss someone, the person you kissed can actually taste the wine!"
Happy, disgusting, ugly squeal. "Realllllly?"
Glimpses of white teeth were seen as the heavyset man smiled a triumphant, proud smile. "Really." With that, the man took a huge sip of wine, and placed a sound kiss on the woman's lips.
SLAP!
"Ouch..."
Ryou Bakura rolled his eyes. Yami Bakura, however, eyed the collection of wine bottles thoughtfully.
//Wanna try?//
/What, you want me to slap you?/
//No.//
/Good. You'd probably punch me in return./
Yami Bakura grabbed a green bottle and took a sip.
/YAMI! You aren't supposed to drink it from the bottle!/
Yami Bakura wrapped his arms around Ryou's waist, yanked him over, and kissed him firmly.
*
Soft, warm, comfortable, heavenly, smooth, hot, sweet with a pleasant tangy sting.
A wine kiss.
*
The rest of the evening flew by with little distractions. Of course, it's hard getting distracted when your absolutely delectable yami insists on kissing you over and over again.
Not that I minded, anyway.
There was this small, itsy-bitsy incident, though...
*
After the pale-haired pair pulled away from their thirteenth kiss, a staggering, obviously drunk man tapped Ryou on the shoulder.
Yami Bakura glared angrily.
"Hey beautiful, wanna dance?"
Ryou Bakura carefully slipped a plastic knife into Yami Bakura's ready hands.
.:O-wa-ri.:.
[A/N:] Inspired by Korean TV dramas. Predictable as they are, they are still quite amusing.
OOC-ness? Truly sorry.
~rain-streaked
[crimson amnesia]
[crim-chan]