Clash

by Lethe Seraph

Chapter Two: Motivations Differ

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         Listening to LOTR.  Ish fun. ^____^

         A big thank you and huggle to those who reviewed. ::rummages:: Oh, and plushies.  Of course I have to give out plushies…

         ………..

         Uh, are Mako and Pegasus okay? ^_^;;

         ::runs off to restock::

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         On a slightly more serious note….. -__- It's really scary when Malik's dub voice finds its way into my head while I'm writing this.  ::twitch::

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         Love, huh?

         What is it, really? 

         People seem quite concerned with it.  They build their lives upon its foundation, and spend their lives in search of it.  They create, destroy, are grown from this feeling.  Stories and songs alike rhapsodize about 'love', to the point where I can't stand it any more.

         My vessel says upon occasion, when he's in one of his moods, that love is merely a byproduct of the human desire to reproduce.  It doesn't matter in the long run, and one would be better off to ignore it.

         Sometimes, the light is darker than I am.

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         "Bakura residence,"

         "Hey.  It's me."

         "…Do I know y-" The boy's voice shifted suddenly.  "Malik."

         Malik grinned, even though Bakura couldn't see it.  "That would be me."

         "Why did you call me?"  His tone was dry.  Get to the point already, he said.  Malik sighed.  He never was one for small talk, unless it centered on him and his accomplishments.

         The blonde took on a high falsetto tone, taking Bakura's lack of humor on with a vengeance.  "Why, to see how you were, of course!  Why ever else, darling?"   

         He could hear Bakura twitching.

         "Did I kill you for the second time, or what?" said Malik.  "This does cost me money, you know."

         "Then get on with it, damn it!  Quit playing around!" said Bakura.  Joy.  It's his I'm-three-steps-from-stringing-your-guts-out voice…

         "You're no fun, Thief…" said Malik.  "So, busy?"

         "It depends," said Bakura darkly.

         "Hungry?"

         "Perhaps."

         "Reservations for five thirty at the Chihoru, we're splitting the bill, I'll pick you up at five fifteen and hope you're not afraid of riding on motorcycles."

         "Don't be late," said Bakura.

         Click.

         "You know," shouted Malik over the rush of the wind, "I didn't think you were the sort of person who would be afraid of riding on motorcycles!"

         "What makes you think I am?!" yelled Bakura in reply.  "I'm not exactly screaming my lungs out!"

         "No, but then, you are about to squeeze mine out."

         Bakura glared at Malik's purple-clad back.  "Would you rather I fell off?"

         "Do you really want me to answer?"

         Bakura kept on glaring.  Maybe it would eventually start to burn.

         "You're glaring at my back, aren't you?"

         Bakura nearly fell off.

         "Here we are," said Malik briskly, hopping off of the bike with practiced ease.  Bakura followed in his own lithe way.

         Malik suppressed a sigh.  He had rather enjoyed the ride.

         …No, not like that!  He shook his head.  It was just fun bantering with the Thief. 

         He would never…

         A pair of fingers flicked at his forehead.  "Is anyone in there?" said Bakura impatiently.  "It's almost five thirty."

         "…Right!" said Malik.

         Bakura walked in.

         Malik followed.

         "So," said Bakura with a shrug, once the two had been seated.  The waiters had eyed them rather strangely as they were shown to their table.  Malik preferred to think that it was because of his surpassing physical beauty; though their thoughts were most likely focused on the fact that two boys were going to a restaurant, alone, and one of them was wearing a very girly shirt.

         He liked the shirt.

         "So?"

         "What were you thinking about there?" said Bakura.  He picked up his soup spoon and twirled it through his fingers.  Malik watched them dance.  First and second finger, twirl once, twice, flip to third and fourth, now third and second, and then it's gone to the other hand!  How did he make it seem so graceful?  It was almost magical, the way the spoon disappeared and reappeared without any apparent effort.

         Bakura had said something, hadn't he?  Oh, yes.  He had wanted to know what Malik was thinking about.  Great.

         "Not much," said Malik.

         Bakura grinned.  That was when Malik realized he had just set himself up.  "That's what I figured."

         The real words were out of Malik's mouth before he realized the setup had itself been a setup.  "Actually, I was thinking.  I was thinking about how motorcycle rides are more fun when you're there."

         Whatever Bakura had been expecting, it wasn't that, as his fish-open mouth showed.

         "Oh, shut it," grumbled Malik.  "I didn't mean anything by it."

         Bakura recovered.  He seemed rather embarrassed.  "Of course not!  That's just stupid."

         "Is it really?"

         "Yeah," said Bakura flippantly.  Third and fourth finger, second and first.  First and fourth, back around and balancing on the knuckles.  He drew his hand away suddenly and it fell through the air into his fingers.  "You and I are rivals.  We're only on speaking terms because you have something I want."

         Damned if Malik wasn't blushing.  "Why do you do that?" he said, trying to bring the subject back upon more tolerable grounds.

         "Do what?"

         "That," said Malik as Bakura continued to play.  "With the spoon."

         "Why not?" said Bakura with a vocal shrug as his dessert fork joined the game.  "Keeps me in practice.  Gives me something to do while you're mentally undressing me."

         Malik spat out the water he had been sipping.  "Excuse me.  I must not have heard you correctly.  WHAT?"

         Bakura smirked, brushing water futilely away from his shirt with a napkin.  "You really are a sensitive soul, Malik.  I was joking.  Jesting.  Would you like me to spell it out for you?"

         Malik recovered enough from the initial shock to make a comeback.  "You just wish I were, Thief."

         "You wish that I wish you were," replied Bakura.

         "Yeah?  Well, you wish that I wish that you wish that I were… that you were… I was… um," finished Malik lamely.  "What are you going to order?"

         "I'm thinking about the steak," said Bakura.  He sighed.  "I don't think I can eat all of it, though.  The portions look quite large."  He turned the menu so it faced Malik, and pointed it out.  "See?"

         "Hm," said Malik. 

         Should I ask?  Would it seem like I was coming onto him?  Because I don't want him to think that.  I don't like him at all!  Not one tiny bit, and that's why I invited him to this restaurant.  Gods… I suck.  Well, I guess I could-

         "What do you think?  Want to share?" suggested Bakura before Malik could speak.

         The best Malik could come up with was a nod.

         Bakura's smirk grew.  Yes!  Cheaper for me…