Chapter 4 – On the Fourth Day of Christmas – Four Slow Dances
Bakura growled under his breath for what felt like the hundredth time in the past ten minutes, stalking through the park angrily. He wasn't sure exactly what it was he was angry about . . . was it the fact that he had kissed Yami with the intent on laying claim to him, or that Yami had pushed him away the minute their hikari's came home? He wasn't even sure if he was angry . . . or if he was upset.
Licking his lips absently, he snarled at the taste of the Pharaoh that still lingered upon his flesh. This . . . was not . . . happening! He simply could NOT be falling for that man! Unfortunately, telling his mind that was very different from telling the same thing to the very heart he thought he'd lost five thousand years ago. There was something very wrong about this whole mess . . . but at the same time, when he'd held Yami in his arms, he'd felt the peace of soul he'd been missing for so long. It had felt so right, and Yami's subtle surrender to it had been like a heaven granted wish.
Pale hands clenched at his sides, and he suddenly lunged, throwing a fist into a nearby tree and then pulling back to watch the blood drip from his knuckles. Once upon a time, all he'd wanted was to see the Pharaoh broken and bleeding at his feet as he took everything the man held dear . . . now, the mere thought of it made him queasy. Had five thousand years really changed him that much? Or was it this new and unexpected mortality that had done this to him? If so, he would gladly go back to being a spirit.
Finally arriving back home, he quickly disappeared into his room, glad to be back on familiar territory at last. At least here he was still in control. Flipping on the radio, he dropped into his bed, letting the music wash over him as he tried to straighten his thoughts into an amalgamation that made some sense.
It wasn't until Ryou arrived home later that evening that he emerged from his basement den, having accomplished absolutely nothing during his thought session. He was still as confused and irritable as he'd been when he'd arrived . . . if anything, he was even more confused.
"Alright," Ryou started the minute he appeared upstairs. "What happened between the two of you THIS time?" The fierceness in his hikari's expression surprised him . . . he hadn't thought the boy had a single forceful bone in his body. That didn't mean he was going to tell the little brat anything, however.
"Nothing happened," he snapped, striding the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water. He would have dearly loved to get drunk, but there was nothing in the house, and he certainly wasn't in the mood to go out.
"Bullshit!" Ryou snarled, stepping forward and grabbing his arm before he could anywhere. "Damn it, Bakura, stop lying to me! Stop lying to yourself! You're starting to care about him, aren't you?" Red-brown eyes widened, staring down into the accusing chocolate of his light self's before they narrowed again in anger. He shrugged out of the restraining hand carelessly, stepping away from the youth before turning to face him.
"Me? Care about that arrogant prick? Have you finally lost your damn mind?" he growled. Ryou sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at the former thief. Why did Bakura always have to be so damn difficult?
"Then why did you kiss him?" he asked smoothly, pleased when a flush spread across his dark's pale cheeks.
Bakura couldn't stop the blood from heating his face as he stared at his light in shock. How did Ryou know about what had just occurred back at the shop? Yami certainly wouldn't have told him . . . unless he wasn't referring to that event at all. He had kissed Yami yesterday as well . . . although his reasons at the time had been far different from what they had been today. Today he had wanted to lay claim . . . yesterday he had wanted to torture.
"It was only fair that he have to taste the crap he shoved down my throat," he said finally, after getting his flush under control.
"That's not it . . . at least, not all of it," Ryou murmured, looking smug. He tapped his forehead knowingly. "You're usually not so guarded in our link, Bakura . . . what are you trying to hide?" Bakura snarled at him, but he stared back blandly, refusing to back down. He was going to get to the bottom of this, one way or the other. If it was what he suspected was going on, he would be relieved and more than a little overjoyed. But if his dark was simply playing another one of his sadistic games, he'd best nip it in the bud before anyone got hurt. He wouldn't stand for his dark to hurt anymore of his friends just because he was bored.
Bakura was currently debating on whether to strangle his hikari for being too damn smart, or for just coming out and telling him. Strangling him was tempting enough . . . what was surprising was that he actually did want to tell Ryou. He obviously wasn't having any luck sorting the whole mess out on his own. But that wasn't going to happen . . . there was no way he would give that kind of power over him to his light. So he settled for growling at the smaller youth before stalking back to his den. Ryou, however, had not quite finished with him.
"There's a dance at school tomorrow," he called. "You're playing chaperone." There was no answer from the departing thief, which Ryou figured might just be for the better. He'd pushed his luck with his dark enough for one day.
----------------------------
Yami awoke slowly the following morning, the seventeenth of December, with a feeling much akin to dread. The last few days had not been easy on him, and he wasn't looking forward to any more incidents between himself and the Tomb Robber. If he could just simply avoid the thief, maybe this strange feeling would pass. At least, he hoped it would.
His own mixed feelings on the whole mess weren't helping him clear this entire dilemma up. He wanted to see the Tomb Robber . . . actually, he wanted more than just to see the former thief, but he wasn't quite willing to admit to that just yet.
When had he stopped hating Bakura? When had the man stopped being an enemy and started to become something so much closer than a friend? It was troubling him greatly, and he knew that somewhere deep within him, he was welcoming this change between the two of them.
At least he and Yugi were back on track to mending their relationship. They had spent all of the previous night talking and cuddling on the couch, relaxed completely in each other's presence for the first time in what felt like ages. Yugi had asked him to chaperone the dance this evening at the school, and he'd agreed happily . . . anything to get him out of the house and away from his own thoughts. The store would be busy again today, so he hoped he wouldn't have time to think about yesterday and the startling kiss that he was still thinking about.
Something in that kiss had been different . . . when Bakura had kissed him the day before, it had been almost mocking, and strangely gentle. Yesterdays kiss had been nothing of the sort . . . it had been demanding and possessive, and that stuck with him more than anything. It couldn't be possible that Bakura was developing feelings for him . . . could it? But if that wasn't it, than what had prompted that strange event yesterday? He'd have been willing to say the thief was jealous, but of what?
Shaking his head, he arose from bed to get dressed and ready for the day. Yugi had finals, and he had a store to run . . . the rest of the world was waiting for them, so these little issues would simply have to be set aside. He only wished it was easier to do.
----------------------------
Yami stood against the wall, lounging absently in the shadows as he watched the young people who attended the same school as his aibou dance and socialize. He was glad that he had dressed up . . . although Yugi had said it was casual, because of his being a chaperone, he'd still thought he should look his best, and looking around at the other chaperone's he was glad he had. The black dress slacks hung just right on his lean legs, the black dress shirt clung enticingly in all the right places, and he was aware of all of that, although it didn't really concern him one way or the other. As long as he was comfortable, he couldn't care less what he looked like. He'd even forgone the belts and the choker that had become habitual for him to wear, although he'd refused to put on a tie. Whoever had come up with that particular torture device should have worked for him back in Egypt.
He was also well aware of the covert glances and downright stares he was receiving, but they didn't bother him. Let them look . . . he simply wasn't interested. Besides, who would understand his ties with Yugi, and his origins, outside of the close circle of friends he and his aibou had chosen? The commotion when he had walked in with Yugi had been hilarious, to say the least, and he was sure Yugi had fielded about a dozen questions already about who he was and where he came from. He had felt the slight consternation of his aibou when the first question was asked, and had reminded Yugi of the cover story they had come up with if anyone asked.
It was lucky that they looked so much alike . . . it made the claim that they were brother's all the more realistic. The story was that Yami was his older brother, who had been raised in Egypt with friends of the family. No one bothered asking WHY Yami had been raised in Egypt . . . mostly because it was such a weird circumstance that they all assumed it had to be a painful reason, so they left it alone. That was just fine with Yami . . . he still hadn't come up with a reason for that either.
He had been amused by the swarm of girl's Yugi had attracted, although his aibou had been somewhat distraught. Since Yugi's 'fame' as a duelist, he picked up many admirers. He wasn't comfortable with that, because he was sure most of them were just there for the fame of being his 'friend'. But it made him feel somewhat special all the same, which as far as Yami was concerned was all for the better. Yugi needed more people, and as long as he had his true friends, it didn't matter who came and went in his social life.
A second commotion by the door drew his attention, and crimson eyes widened as he spied the head of snow white hair over the crowd. He hadn't known the Tomb Robber was going to be here as well . . . although he should have guessed it, he supposed. After all, Ryou would need a chaperone, right? Refusing to acknowledge the strange flutter in his stomach at Bakura's arrival, he turned his eyes back to the dance floor, attempting to ignore the sensation that he was being looked at.
Bakura found Yami almost immediately as he looked around the gymnasium in which the dance was being held. Not surprisingly, the Pharaoh was in the shadows, watching over his aibou. Why a man as good looking as he was hid in the shadows . . . he froze that thought before it went any further. He was NOT going to dwell on that tonight . . . he'd spent all night and this whole day dwelling on that kind of thing, and frankly he was sick of it, because he still hadn't made any headway in understanding it.
He smoothed his hands over his black jeans, tugging on the tie Ryou had made him wear over his deep violet silk shirt absently. Whoever had invented the damn things should have spent an eternity in the Shadow Realm, as far as he was concerned.
Yugi came up to them, smiling as he greeted Ryou before their other friends surrounded his hikari and the Pharaoh's. Growling under his breath, he made his way into his own dark corner, glad to be out of the direct line of sight of Yami.
Yami, on the other hand, was less than enthused with his current predicament. It seemed that a couple of the other chaperones . . . both ladies, and apparently both single . . . had decided he looked lonely and had come over to entreat him to join them. As much as Yami liked to remain polite, it was beginning to wear thin.
"Oh please, you simply must come join us!" one woman gushed, laying a hand on his arm. Yami was hard pressed not to shrug it off. "Just because we're chaperones doesn't mean we can't have a good time as well." She smiled saucily at him. "How old are you? You can't be much over twenty three . . ."
Smiling slightly, Yami shook his head. He wondered what she would say if he told her he was over five thousand years old . . . perhaps that would get her to leave him alone? He sighed as the other woman joined in with her own entreaties for him to join them, and slowly they began to gently drag him out of his corner.
Aibou . . . I could use some help here . . . he called desperately.
I can't get to you, Yami . . . Came the reply. I'm stuck in traffic. Sparing a glance towards where Yugi was, Yami could see the truth of that statement. Yugi was literally surrounded on all sides, unable to move much from his current position. Unless he wanted to resort to being rude, he was going to get stuck being sociable.
Bakura watched it all with a slight smirk, wondering how the mighty Pharaoh was going to get himself out of this one. He was trying to ignore the anger burning within him, the possessiveness that was once again rearing its annoying head at the thought that anyone dare touch Yami. Shaking his head, he wondered again what in the world had gotten into him . . . but he was still moving before he'd finished that thought, making his way through the crowded dance floor to Yami's side.
Yami sensed his approach, and inwardly he wasn't sure whether he dreaded it or welcomed it. Finally, he decided that if it got him away from the two harpies clinging to him, he would put up with just about anything . . . including his own turbulent emotions.
"Yami . . ." Bakura growled as he finally arrived, laying a pale hand on the black satin-covered shoulder. "Could I speak with you for a moment?" Yami nodded, trying not to sigh in relief even as his unwanted 'admirers' sighed in disappointment.
"If you will excuse me, ladies," he murmured, removing himself from their grasp gently. "After you, Bakura." He gestured for the thief to proceed him, which the white haired man did. He instantly regretted it . . . the blue jeans the Tomb Robber was wearing clung rather enticingly in all the right places. He shook his head, mentally smacking himself for falling back into that mental trap, and glued his eyes onto the back of Bakura's head as he followed him off the dance floor and into the shadows. "Thank you," he murmured as they came to a stand still. Bakura growled and shrugged it off, crossing his arms over his chest before leaning back against the wall.
"I didn't do it for you, Pharaoh," he snarled. "Ryou requested that I rescue you." It was a bald faced lie, and he knew it . . . just as he knew that his 'oh so casually nonchalant' pose was more of an effort to keep from grabbing the Pharaoh and picking up where they had left off yesterday. But he was hoping that Yami wouldn't pick up on any of that. It seemed his ruse worked, because Yami snorted wryly and turned his attention back to the floor without another word.
Red-brown eyes studied the lithe figure silently, enjoying the chance to do so with no one watching . . . especially Yami. He really was a beautiful specimen . . . desirable as well as respectable. He shook his head at that thought . . . since when did he actually RESPECT the Pharaoh!? This was getting out of hand – he was growing tired of these strange thoughts continually popping into his head. But still . . . he couldn't quite deny them, either.
Yami was all too aware of the thief standing behind him. The feeling of eyes upon his was hard to ignore, but he certainly wasn't going to give Bakura the satisfaction of knowing that he was succeeding in unnerving him. The thought popped into his head that he hoped the thief liked what he saw, but he banished it almost as soon as it manifested itself. He was relieved when Yugi finally got free of the crowd and made his way over to him.
"Yami? There's a chaperone dance coming up . . . will you dance with me?" the youth asked quietly. Yami smiled, ruffling the soft hair slightly before nodding his ascent. He would gladly dance with his aibou . . . and not simply because it got him away from the volatile Tomb Robber. Yugi was his light . . . the other half of his very soul. Simply being close to him was always a pleasure.
He allowed Yugi to pull him out onto the dance floor, sighing as the youth wrapped his slim arms around his waist before drawing his aibou closer, nuzzling into the soft hair with a sigh of contentment. He needed Yugi, more than Yugi had ever needed him. His little light was the very core of his existence, the bedrock of his sanity. Without Yugi, he would have been lost, and he knew it. He'd learned that lesson in America, and it was one he never intended to forget ever again.
Crimson eyes flickered to the side, and widened slightly in surprise as he spied Ryou and his yami dancing together nearby. The tender way Bakura held the smaller youth was astounding . . . he wouldn't have thought the thief had a single gentle bone in his body. That thought brought back the memory of the gentle kiss they had shared on the day he'd spent over at Ryou's house, watching over the sick thief, and he flushed slightly before burying his face back into his aibou's hair. That was NOT something he wanted to be thinking about right now.
Yami? Yugi whispered into their link. Are you okay? Cursing himself for not being more attentive to what the link was allowing to pass through to his aibou, he quickly tried to right himself.
Yes, aibou . . . merely thinking, is all, he replied. Why do you ask?
You felt . . . confused, Yugi said softly. Does it . . . have anything to do with what's been happening between you and Bakura? Yami nearly stopped dancing right then and there, surprise shooting through him at the evidence that Yugi had noticed his current preoccupation. I'm not blind, you know, his little one murmured, sounding rather annoyed. It's pretty obvious that something has been going on . . . do you want to talk about it? The former Pharaoh smiled slightly.
It is nothing, my hikari, he said after a moment. Merely a passing thought that has caught me by surprise. Nothing to be worried about. He sensed Yugi's disbelief at the statement, but was relieved when his little light didn't press the issue. He simply didn't want to talk about it right now . . . and especially not to his innocent aibou. Perhaps because he was still hoping it was just a passing whim.
Bakura was not any better off. With Ryou in his arms, dancing gently to the soft music, he couldn't help wishing that Yugi and he could switch places . . . which disgusted him to no end. What in all the worlds was he thinking?! The only dance he wanted to be engaged in with Yami was the killing dance . . . but the minute that thought crossed his mind, he knew it was a lie. He wanted quite a few different dances with Yami . . . not the least of which was one as old as time itself. To feel that lithe body under his, above his, against his – that would be heaven.
The dance ended, and Yami smiled down into laughing amethyst eyes as Yugi stepped back a bit, slightly flushed and absolutely adorable. The silent, joyful moment was abruptly shattered by the arrival of their friends, who surrounded them.
"Yami . . . can I get the next dance?" Tea asked. Yami smiled and nodded, albeit reluctantly. Crimson eyes watched Bakura leave the dance floor with something akin to longing before the next song started, and he pulled Tea into his arms stiffly, trying to maintain distance between their bodies . . . a distance that Tea seemed determined to narrow. He sighed mentally, and finally gave up. To continue trying to fight to keep her at a distance would be rude, and she was a friend after all. Someday, he would have to talk to her about the crush that she seemed to have on him. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, but he simply wasn't interested.
He was blissfully unaware of the narrowed blood-tinted chocolate eyes that stared at him unerringly from the shadows not so far away. Bakura growled low in his throat, watching as Tea finally succeeded in pressing tightly against the Pharaoh's slim form, and resisted the urge to stalk onto the floor and rip her away . . . and preferably into a million tiny pieces while he was at it.
A gentle touch on his arm startled him, and he turned with a snarl that quickly died as he came face to face with his hikari.
"You're falling in love with him, aren't you?" Ryou asked quietly. "That's what this problem is . . . you're falling in love with him, and you don't like it one bit." Bakura stomped on the urge to throttle his little light right then, settling on completely refuting that statement.
"It would be a cold day in Egypt before I fell in love with that pompous ass," he snapped. "He's arrogant, conceited, and completely intolerable, not to mention smug and annoying. Me, in love with him? Don't be foolish Ryou . . . you've been reading too many of those romance stories you enjoy so much." He turned away abruptly, therefore not seeing the slight grin that crossed the youth's features before the boy walked away, shaking his head slightly in amusement.
Ryou wasn't fooled by his dark's little rant for one minute. Bakura was beginning to care about the Pharaoh . . . and it explained a lot of what had been happening lately. Of course his yami would try to deny feeling anything towards Yami . . . it would ruin his image of himself to admit otherwise. But like it or not, Bakura was starting to feel something other than hatred towards the former Pharoah. Problem was, what could he and Yugi do to help things along? He agreed with Yugi thoroughly . . . their dark's needed someone else in their lives besides their hikari's. And the only people who had a chance at understanding them completely was each other.
The dance with Tea finally ended, and Yami tried not to breathe a sigh of relief as she thanked him and headed off into the crowd. She was a great girl, and altogether pleasant to be around when she wasn't on one of her friendship tirades, but he simply wasn't interested in her. He turned to go . . . and smiled as he spied Bakura. It wasn't the sight of the thief himself that amused him, however. It was what Bakura was unknowingly standing under.
After having been literally put through the ringer by the arrogant thief, suddenly Yami wanted some revenge . . . a whole lot of it, in fact. It wasn't right that he be the only one squirming in this little game, after all. He headed for the white-haired man, his eyes locked on the sprig of green plant with white berries that hung just out of reach over the Tomb Robber's head.
Bakura sensed Yami's approach, one eyebrow rising toward his hairline in curiosity at the suddenly serious, yet slightly devious, air the Pharaoh was carrying. What in the world was the man up to? He stiffened as Yami stepped well within his personal space, glaring at the crimson eyed man challengingly as the lithe figure stepped even closer.
"Do you realize that you're standing underneath a sprig of mistletoe, thief?" he asked quietly, his voice taking on the smoky qualities of a more sensual and dangerous nature. "Has no one told you what that means in this modern age?"
Disturbed by Yami's sudden nearness, and his body's own strange reactions to that closeness, he settled for being an asshole, trying to cover up his preoccupation with anger.
"Why don't you tell me, Pharaoh, since you know so much," he snapped. His heart jumped when Yami simply smirked, a teasing, seductive grin flitting across the aquiline features before he moved closer, almost leaning into the Tomb Robber's suddenly tense frame.
"To stand under the mistletoe in this time means you want to be kissed, thief," he whispered, his breath brushing over the white haired thief's lips teasingly. "Is that what you want?"
Bakura couldn't force his voice past the sudden lump in his throat, his heart pounding painfully in his chest as he stared into the crimson eyes mere inches from his own red-tinted gaze. The thought that Yami was playing with him crossed his mind, but he couldn't move to act on that thought, mesmerized by the crimson depths as a rabbit before a cobra. 'This is what you get by playing with dynamite,' he thought absently. 'It blows up on you.'
Yami was thoroughly enjoying the moment. For once, he was on the offensive, and Bakura was the one left speechless. That was definitely a new development – the sharp tongued thief left with nothing to say. But he paused in his plans as he stared into the wide reddish brown eyes, seeing something in them that surprised him. There was a startling vulnerability there, a thing he had never dreamed he would associate with the thief, and suddenly he simply couldn't continue this game. Not if it would hurt the white haired man.
That thought alone finally cleared the entire mess in his head. His fears were true . . . the man who had once been his most hated enemy was now the person he had come to love. No matter what Bakura had done over the past two days . . . whatever game he had been playing that had made the thief kiss him . . . he couldn't, and wouldn't, do the same.
"Bakura . . ." he whispered, unconsciously leaning closer, his mouth resting near the pale shell of one ear, feeling the soft silk of the Tomb Robber's hair caress his cheek. "No matter what you may think of me . . . times have changed. What lies between us is in the past . . . what lies before us is up to you and I. But I will not play games with you. What you want, you must come and ask for, when you decide what exactly that is." He sighed, pulling away slowly to gaze into the thief's eyes once again, memorizing the vulnerability he saw there before turning and stalking away.
The Tomb Robber watched him go, disbelief etching his features before he saw Ryou staring at him. Snorting derisively, he straightened and turned away, stalking out of his hikari's line of sight, feeling the turmoil in his soul at Yami's strange actions, and words. Unfortunately, the words were not easy to forget, and he had the sinking feeling that he was going to be mulling them over in his head for another sleepless night.
Ryou and Yugi had watched the entire exchange. Now, they shared a puzzled glance, wondering what had just occurred. They moved out onto the dance floor together in mutual agreement that it would be the best place to talk without attracting either dark's unwanted attention.
"What do you think that was about?" Ryou asked quietly. Yugi shrugged slightly, allowing the taller boy to take the lead as he thought.
"I don't know . . . for a minute there, Yami's emotions were pretty clear, then there was this strange spike and he suddenly walked away. What about Bakura?" Ryou shook his head, frowning slightly.
"He's shielding too tightly," the young Brit murmured. "I can't get a thing from the link."
Something significant had just happened, of that they were both sure. Now they only had to figure out what, and how to use it to get their dark's together.