Disclaimer – I still don't own them, although it would be a great Christmas present. Bakura, wrapped in a bow, under my tree . . . how positively yummi . . .
Author's Notes – Another Chapter done, and I'm slowly catching up. I may just make me deadline after all. WHEE!
Chapter Seven – On the Seventh Day of Christmas – Seven Thoughts of Murder
Deep into the night, well after everyone had gone home, Bakura still sat in his armchair in the basement, glaring at the ceiling and thinking.
Seeing Joey holding Yami had hurt. The image flickered before his eyes again, and he snarled and took another drink. Coffee this time . . . if he had any more alcohol he was going to pickle himself. He'd drank more in the last four days than he usually ever did. He attributed it rightly to his own inner turmoil, but that didn't mean he was inclined to killing himself with the shit. He had the inexplicable urge to pick up smoking . . . another nervous habit that he considered a weakness, but at the moment he didn't particularly care.
What had the other day been to the Pharaoh? Had he just been looking for some action, and come to Bakura because he figured it was his best bet? White hair flew as the thief shook his head at that thought. One thing he was certain of was that Yami wouldn't have come to him purely for physical release. There had been something more there . . . something deeper. But if that was the case, what was he doing with the mutt?
That jackass didn't deserve the Pharaoh! Then again, while he was along those lines, neither did he. But he always had been one to reach for what couldn't, by rights, be his. He wanted . . . no, if he was honest, he NEEDED Yami. It was like a physical pain in his chest thinking that he might not have that option anymore.
The mutt needed to be taught a lesson about staying away from his property. Yami was his . . . he would allow no other outcome. But how to go about pressing that point and claiming his Pharaoh? Pale fingers drummed against the arm of the chair absently before his trademark sadistic smirk made it's appearance.
Perhaps it was time he and the mutt had a little talk. After he got some sleep of course . . . this emotional crap was exhausting.
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Joey sighed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he walked to the Turtle Game Shop to join Yami and Yugi for a day of decorating and helping in the shop. Yesterday had definitely been interesting . . . and he was relieved that he hadn't run into Bakura yet. The psychotic spirit of Ryou's ring had looked ready to tear him apart limb from limb.
He had to admit that when he'd agreed to this, he hadn't expected anything to come of it. The Tomb Robber, falling in love with the Pharaoh? There was something seriously wrong with that thought . . . yet now that he'd seen the proof with his own two eyes, he could still scarcely believe it. He wasn't sure which he was more surprised by . . . the fact that Bakura was capable of emotion, or that he was developing feelings for Yami, of all people.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't see the pale hand that reached out and pulled him into an alley. Amber eyes widened in shock as a hand clamped over his mouth, finding his back abruptly against the wall. He stared down into muddy red eyes, and went cold. So much for thinking he might have gotten off lightly.
"Wheeler," Bakura snarled, leaning into the lean figure menacingly. "I'm only going to warn you once, mutt . . . keep your hands off of Yami." He released Joey's mouth when the blonde mumbled something against his hand. "What was that, mutt?" he growled.
"What right do you have to tell me what to do with Yami?" Joey snapped back, shoving the lighter man away and straightening. "You hate him . . . why should you care?" The red-brown eyes glaring at him narrowed dangerously, but he wasn't about to give up. If he could get Bakura to just admit to it now, they could end this charade, and Yami could be happy. "Don't tell me you're starting to care for him, Bakura, 'cause it's horseshit. You don't care about anyone but yourself . . . and occasionally your aibou." He froze when the thief drew a knife from behind his back, turning the blade so that it glittered in the dim light.
"You speak of shit you know nothing about, Wheeler," Bakura growled softly. "I ought to cut that tongue out of your head." He grinned demonically, and it was all Joey could do not to shiver at the cold look in the dark's eyes. "However, without a tongue you would be sadly unable to irritate Kaiba, which is much more fun to watch. But this is my final warning, Joey Wheeler. Stay away from Yami . . . or next time I might not be so pleasant." Slipping the knife back into the sheath at his back, he stalked out of the alley, leaving Joey staring after him, half in disappointment and half in relief.
That Bakura hadn't done anything other than threatening was surprising . . . and very telling as to the former thief's state of mind. Pulling himself together, he continued on to the Game Shop, anxious now to tell Yugi and Yami that the plan seemed to be working.
Slipping into the shop, he wasn't surprised to find Yugi at the register. But Yami was nowhere to be seen, which was odd.
"Yami's up taking a shower," Yugi said, seeing the confusion flicker in his friend's amber eyes. "He woke up late this morning." The diminutive duelist sighed, running a hand through his tri-colored hair and further spiking it. "I'm worried about him, Joey. I've never seen him like this . . . it's like he doesn't know in which direction to turn." Joey smiled slightly, leaning over the counter and winking.
"Well, I've got some information that might help put his mind to rest a little," the blonde murmured. "I just had a run in with Bakura . . . and if I read him right, he's jealous as hell. He just threatened me to keep away from Yami." Yugi looked stunned, and then concerned.
"Are you all right?" he asked, reaching across to lay a pale hand on one brown sleeve. "He didn't do anything to you, did he?" Joey smirked.
"Bakura? Hell no . . . surprising as it was, he limited himself to threats and a little knife showing, and then stalked off." Yugi sighed in relief, leaning back on the stool to think this over as he considered his blonde friend.
He still couldn't believe that Yami and Bakura had a thing for each other. To be honest, he was relieved . . . the two of them would be a perfect match. But watching Yami go through this was hell . . . the Pharaoh was the other half of his soul, and seeing him so unsure about his next move was shocking as well as painful.
Upstairs, Yami was soaking under the hot water, trying NOT to think of his most current dilemma. The thought that Bakura might actually care for him was like pure ambrosia to his soul, but his mind simply wouldn't let his doubts rest. Five thousand years was a long time to be enemies . . . suddenly finding himself in love with the Tomb Robber and the possibility of having that love returned simply didn't want to smooth over in his mind.
If he'd known he was being watched at the moment, he probably would have had a whole lot less turmoil going on . . . because a certain white haired thief would have been planted in the Shadow Realm for a while.
The tree he was perched in was fast becoming uncomfortable, considering his current state of affairs. On the bonus side, Bakura was getting to see every inch of that delectable body . . . the problem was, his hormones were going into overdrive and his pants were fast becoming a little too restricted for his comfort. What had possessed him to climb another tree was beyond him . . . but after over hearing Yugi's comment about his dark being in the shower, he hadn't really given it much thought until he was up here.
The view, however, was well worth the effort. Silently thanking whatever god had created see-through shower doors, he watched unashamedly as water sluiced over firm, muscular golden skin, the upturned face looking like a heaven sent angel with the crimson eyes closed as Yami faced the pounding water. Now more than ever he really wanted to pick up where he and the Pharaoh had left off before.
He was tempted to pick his way in to the bathroom through the window, just so he could get a closer look. That, however, would be cheating, and still wouldn't tell him exactly what was going on in Yami's head with this whole mess.
Surprisingly, he was finding he wanted Yami completely willing . . . and not more than a little in love with him. It was disgustingly sappy of him, which the more sadistic side of him was quick to point out, but it was true. Of course, there was this little issue with the mutt that needed to be dealt with as well.
Another surge of rage and jealousy swept through him at that thought. Yami was HIS, Anubis take the blonde's soul! The fact that Joey had held that lithe form against his, and that Yami had relaxed into the embrace, churned in his stomach and mind like bitter acid. What was going on between the two of them? Wheeler wasn't . . . fucking his Pharaoh, was he? That thought made him burn to go make sure the mutt couldn't put anything into anyone ever again.
He stomped on that urge ruthlessly. First of all, if he even considered harming a hair on the idiot's head, any chance he had with Yami flew straight out the damn window. Second of all, Ryou would make his current life hell. Not that he particularly gave a flying fuck as to what his hikari thought . . . but having to suddenly find a new place to live would add stress to an already over-stressed situation. So he would let the mutt live . . . for now. Ra help the blonde if he touched Yami again, however. That would simply not be tolerated.
Preoccupied with his thoughts, he almost missed the shower turning off. Red-brown eyes widened in sudden panic and he scrambled to get away from the window and down before he was caught being a voyeur. He would never live that blow to his reputation down!
Unfortunately, he'd forgotten that it was winter and that there were patches of ice on his current perch. Slipping on one of the patches, he swore and scrabbled for purchase . . . only to miss. Luckily, the fall was a relatively short one, and the snow had piled up under the tree enough to soften the fall, but it still knocked the wind out of him . . . as well as burying him up to his nose in the cold white mess.
Rising to his feet, he shook himself, grumbling under his breath as he was surrounded in a white, swirling cloud of the infernal stuff. Love was apparently making him stupid as well as clumsy. He stalked off, heading for the main strip of stores and a way to lose some stress . . . it was always fun to irritate the local law enforcement, and maybe it would help him get his mind off trying to convince Yami that he belonged to him.
Above and behind him, Yami stepped out of the shower with a sigh, wrapping one of the towels around his waist before leaving the bathroom on a cloud of steam and going to his own room next to Yugi's. It didn't often see much use, except for when he was changing clothes . . . he and Yugi had become too accustomed to being together at all times to really maintain separate rooms. More often than not, when it came time to sleep, he was in Yugi's bed, cuddled up to his light half. He smiled slightly . . . they hadn't done much of that over the past few days, and he did somewhat miss it. But he wasn't going to keep his aibou awake all night because of his own sleeplessness.
Sliding into a pair of midnight blue pants, he threw on a white silk shirt before running a brush through his hair and exiting the room to descend to the store below. He was surprised to find Joey there already . . . if anything, the blonde was notorious for being late, and Yami had expected to be down here before he even arrived.
"Good Morning, Joey," he murmured, stepping through the curtain. Amber eyes glanced towards him, and the blonde smiled and waved.
"Hey Yami," he replied, stepping away from the counter. "Another night with no sleep, huh?" Yami nodded reluctantly, and Joey made a sound of commiseration. "Hopefully he'll come to his senses soon, man. Even he can't be that stubborn." Joey quickly filled Yami in on what had happened before he'd arrived.
He hadn't counted on the crimson eyes narrowing with anger.
"He . . . does not . . . own me," Yami growled, clenching his fists by his sides. That Bakura would have the audacity to threaten one of his friends did not surprise him . . . the demand that Joey stay away from him, however, was beyond tolerable. Just who did that damn thief think he was dealing with? Turning from the concerned eyes of Joey and his aibou, he stalked to the back door, shoving his feet into his boots and shrugging into his leather jacket angrily. Love or not, he wasn't going to let Bakura get away with threatening his friends.
Behind him, in the shop, Yugi and Joey exchanged concerned glances before looking back to where Yami had disappeared, wondering what in the world was going to happen next.
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Bakura strode down main street, window shopping for lack of a better idea. He'd forgotten that he'd stolen something here not too long ago . . . to hit the same place again would have been a monumental mistake on his part, so he limited himself to looking and not touching. It seemed to be becoming a habit in his life.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he grumbled to himself at his turn of thought. He just couldn't escape thinking about Yami, no matter what he did. When the hell had he become so damn infatuated with the man? It was disturbing that his views of the man could have changed so suddenly, especially after five thousand years.
He was accustomed to taking whatever he wanted . . . so why couldn't he simply do that with Yami and get it over with? This was getting old quickly. He didn't want to wait for the Pharaoh to come to him, didn't want to wonder if Yami loved him. He simply wanted him, all of him.
He remembered reading a quote in one of Ryou's books about love being a serious mental disease. He had to say that he agreed . . . if this had happened at any other time, he would have checked himself into a mental ward.
Drifting through the streets, he let his thoughts wander, not even realizing when he left the more populated areas of Domino for the darker side of town. He didn't come to that knowledge until he felt a hand on his arm, spinning him around to face the broad chest of the man who'd manhandled him.
"Well, look what we have here, boys and girls. A pretty boy who thinks its safe over here just because it's Christmas time." The gathered group of ruffians chuckled slightly, and Bakura smirked. Just what he needed to get his mind off of Yami . . . bloodshed.
"You have no idea who you're messing with, mortal," he growled, cracking his knuckles. "I'm no simple mark." His smirk grew into a bloodthirsty grin as the thick man chuckled again.
"Some scrawny little albino like you thinks he has a chance against all of us?" he said, gesturing around to the other five people who were with him. "Come off it man . . . just hand over your valuables and we might let you off with nothing more than a few scratches." Bakura chuckled coldly, brown-red eyes growing into an eerie red as he let the anger and bloodlust consume him.
"Too bad I cannot make the same offer," he murmured. He moved suddenly, taking the man by surprise as he dropped to one knee, drawing the knife from his back sheath and taking out the man's hamstrings in a single, smooth motion. He spun on the same knee, using the momentum to rise back to his feet as the leader went down, the other's staring at him in shock before they moved forward with an outraged cry. Bakura smirked, dancing among them and striking in precise areas, slowly and methodically taking them out one by one.
It wasn't until he heard the gunshot that he realized he'd gotten himself into a little more than he usually took on. The burning in his upper arm was a mere nuiscance, but he froze as he found himself looking down the barrel of a small pistol, held in shaking female hands.
"Brutus would have let you go," she whispered, her arms shaking from the strain of holding the gun out straight as 'Brutus' whimpered on the ground. "You didn't have to cripple him."
"He got in my way," Bakura snarled, wiping the knife blade off absently on his jeans as he moved carefully. The female was too tense by far . . . she was likely to shoot him if he made her jump. "Not all those who look like prey are. Some are even more cunning hunters than yourselves."
"Shut up!" she whimpered. "I . . . I don't want to shoot you." The sound of siren's suddenly rose into the night air, and the girl jumped. The gun bucked in her hand as her finger tightened on the trigger, and Bakura braced himself for the impact. Spirit he may have been, and possibly immortal to boot, they had never tested that theory. If he survived this, it was going to hurt . . . badly.
He was stunned when shadows seemed to simply shoot up out of the ground, wrapping the speeding bullet in inky blackness and freezing it dead in the air. Now, who the hell . . .? The girl shrieked, dropping her gun as the shadows entwined around her ankles, holding her in place. There was movement off to the right, and Bakura nearly jumped himself when Yami stepped out of the shadows of a nearby alley, the golden Eye of Horus glowing dangerously on his forehead. The tri-colored locks waved in the preternatural wind raised by the summoning of his Shadow Powers, and Bakura's blood ran cold at the look of rage on the former Pharaoh's face. Someone was in a world of trouble . . . and for once, it didn't look like it was him.
"You should be careful who you shoot at, mortal," Yami growled softly, advancing menacingly. "We do not suffer fools lightly." The shadows began to creep up the shivering girl's legs, and she squeaked in terror as Yami stopped in front of her, reaching out to run a golden hand down one tear streaked cheek before that same hand snapped out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze head on. "The Shadow Realm hungers for your soul, girl," he whispered. "Can you feel it calling, demanding to be fed? This is the price of trying to take another human life . . . learn the lesson well, child, for next time the shadows may get their wish."
A wave of one graceful hand banished the shadows easily, the golden glow fading slowly from his forehead until the Eye once again lay dormant. The girl sobbed in terror and fled, leaving behind her fallen comrades, who were attempting their own escapes, even wounded as they were. Yami paid them no heed, rather turning to Bakura, the anger fading slightly from the narrowed crimson eyes.
"Are you alright?" he murmured, one hand rising to caress the pale, blood streaked cheek before he caught himself and forced it into a fist at his side. Seeing Bakura in danger as he had been had done strange things to his heart, but he'd managed to control the urge to step in . . . until the gun had gone off. At that point, rage and fear had taken over. Yes, he was currently mad at the thief for threatening his friends, but not enough to wish him dead . . . at least, not by a hand other than his own.
"I was fine," the thief snapped, angered despite the relief that flickered through him at Yami's timely interference. Since when did he need the Pharaoh's protection? "You had no need to step in."
"Then I suppose I should have let the bullet hit you?" Yami growled in reply. He snatched the bullet, still suspended in the shadows, out of the air, holding it out in his hand like a marker. "This would have killed you, you know. No one had proven that we are immortal."
"What would you care?!" Bakura snarled back. He regretted it the instant he said it, but it was too late to take back, and he watched as Yami paled underneath the golden skin, his eyes widening slightly with pain.
"You really have no idea, do you?" he whispered. "Sometimes I wonder if you really are as intelligent as you seem to be at times." This time the hand did make it upwards, golden fingers running through the blood on his pale cheek and sending shivers through his spine at the simple touch. "Why do I even bother?" he murmured absently, staring into the wide red-brown eyes.
Stung by that statement, Bakura snapped a reply without thinking, once again letting his mouth run away with him.
"Don't you have a mutt to get back to?" he snapped. Yami sighed, the hand dropping away before he turned and began to walk off, back towards the Game Shop.
"Yes, I do," he called over his shoulder. "I'm done wasting time on you. Don't threaten my friends again, Tomb Robber. You will not survive it the next time."
Watching Yami walk away from him, Bakura tried to shove aside the pain that was threatening to spread outwards from his chest and drown him in it's depths. Something told him that Yami had meant more than just the current circumstances when he'd said he was done wasting time on him. Suddenly, the former thief wanted nothing more than to call Yami back and apologize. But pride kept him silent, and he watched with desolate eyes as the Pharaoh walked away . . . and never looked back.