Warnings/Disclaimer/Notes

YGO belongs to many, many people. I'm sure that somewhere out there, there's a long list of who YGO belongs to. Believe me when I say my name isn't on that list, and after seeing the complete butchering of the dubbed version, if it ever does make it on there, I'm whiting it out and destroying all copies.

Yup.

Silly randomness, OOC-ness, Malik x Bakura fluff, shounen-ai, profanity

Review replies are on the bottom. Thank you for reviewing, and know that I suck at responding to said reviews, so if I accidentally offend you or sound too patronizing, I'm sorry. I miss my little carat signs . . . they make me sound/look more like me, and less like someone who hasn't had any human contact all summer

And go read Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. Has nothing to do with the fic and is pretty dark, but absolutely beautiful, especially when you get all the hidden meanings and stoof.

Seventeen and Crazy

: 2 :

"Well," she said, "I'm seventeen and crazy. My uncle says the two always go together. When people ask your age, he said, always say seventeen and insane . . ."

Clarisse, Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury


Bakura – and his other half – did not make a habit of killing people.

Killing people bad, Bakura knew.

Killing people too messy to be really effective when you could just send them to the Shadow Realm and dump their bodies in a junkyard somewhere, Yami no Bakura knew.

There were, naturally, exceptions to every rule.

Malik loved his bike. It was big and black and shiny, made big scary noises, and was . . . shiny. And went very, very fast, and if stupid little squirrels and bunny rabbits had to get in his way while he was tearing down the roads, then too bad.

On the other hand, people were different. If Malik hit people (it was always an accident, including the time when some idiot had to go and make some comment about Malik's hairstyle and fashion sense . . . even if said idiot had been three stories up in his fancy apartment and Malik had to take the elevator with his motorcycle), he made sure no one was hurt beyond a broken limb, and then promptly tore out of there.

There were, naturally, exceptions to every rule; sometimes he hit people on accident accidentally.

Malik looked at the ancient Egyptian spirit before – more like under – him and attempted a sexy grin.

"Attempted" because the while the grin was sexy, the circumstances were not.

No, Bakura and/or Yami no Bakura were not hurt when Malik nearly ran them over on his bike.

No, Bakura was not ready to strangle him with his own bare hands, set all of the Shadow Realm after Malik's ass (all right, who wouldn't be after Malik's ass?), or at the very least, summon Man-Eater Bug. Malik also doubted Bakura could do all that, but hey, you never knew. It was always the quiet ones . . .

Yes, Yami no Bakura was ready to do all the above and more.

"It's been a long time?" Malik offered weakly and began to back away slowly.

Yami no Bakura looked at him.

"Malik?" he asked, as if realizing it for the first time. Malik quickly ran down the list of the names of the people he'd offended and/or killed; Bakura's wasn't on there.

"Hi," he said. "Wanna go and get drunk?" Because then you'll be too drunk to try and kill me properly and I can run back to Isis' . . . retreat back to Isis' house and warn Rishid was left unsaid.

Yami no Bakura ignored that comment.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he barked out, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering in true pissed off ancient Egyptian spirit fashion. Malik thanked whatever god that came to mind repeatedly; he wasn't dead, obviously.

"Isis moved," Malik said.

Yami no Bakura looked blank. His eyes unfocused a little, and Malik waited as patiently as possible, well-versed in the ways of communication between a host and his other half. Though Isis was right . . . people did look spacey when they were talking like that.

"You done yet?" Malik asked, and if he were a little less "cool," he'd be tapping one foot in agitation. Or irritation. Or possibly both.

Yami no Bakura muttered something in an archaic version of Arabic under his breath. It sounded suspiciously like an insult.

Yami no Malik responded in kind, only no one but Malik heard him.

You understood that, other me?

Didn't need to, Yami no Malik sneered. It's Dark Bakura.

Malik considered that for a few moments. Good point.

"All right, all right, there's no need to get personal," Malik said.

Yami no Bakura focused his eyes- an odd shade of amethyst-red, not at all like the brown Malik had thought they were; hey, you learned something new every day- on him. Was that contempt? Malik bristled; who the hell did Bakura think he was, some powerful spirit-person with the ability to pull monsters out of his ass?

...oh.

"Your other half"- shit yeah, that was contempt, though how, Malik had no idea- "nearly kills me, and you expect it not to be personal?"

Well, when he puts it like that...

You're just begging to go the Shadow Realm again, aren't you.

Malik smirked. And see Pharaoh kick your ass again? Hell, yeah.

As if he would help you.

...point.


Yami no Bakura had no idea how or when Bakura- his stupid, silly, fluffy host- regained control of their body, how or when Malik and his insane other were invited over for tea (metaphorically, or else Yami no Bakura would've been taking Bakura's body for a joyride out the window), but he didn't like it.

What he liked even less was, at Bakura's insistence, he was sitting next to his other, transparent and pissed as hell.

(No matter what Bakura said, he was not pouting or sulking. He was a thief. The Thief King, for whatever god he could remember's sake. He did not pout, he did not sulk, and especially not in the presence of some blond brat.)

"Ignore mou hitori no boku," he heard his other half saying, "he gets this way quite a bit."

Yami no Bakura fixed Bakura with his iciest glare, before remembering that his "I'm going to rip you apart with my teeth, you disgustingly well-done piece of steak"1 glare was much more effective, and Kaiba had copyrighted icy glares.

Damn lawyers. Sucked out your blood and went through your bank account (or piggy bank) like a knife between the ribs.

...from what Yami no Bakura could remember, that had actually been a little tricky, but he digressed.

Fin

A/N: This was short. Very short. And it's been a long time. And I said I wasn't sure if I was going to be continuing this...but that's no excuse, is it?

Consider this a slightly belated...Easter gift. ;

1 – Remember that scene? I have an animated GIF of Dark Bakura ripping that piece of steak to shreds with his teeth. I showed it to my parents and they know that I'm a Dark Bakura fan and...insane. Needless to say, my parents haven't given me steak since.

(I like it raw.)

Since I am now 13 instead of 12, belated birthday wishes anyone? XD