Author's note: -retreats from hiding- ... Is anyone still reading this fic? o.o I completely forgot about it, up until I realized I'd had three-quarters of this chapter written up in my fanfiction folder. XD;;; -bricked-
Anyway, I wrote the last quarter, so if it gets a little different than it was at the beginning of the chapter, please don't get too confused. -headdesk- Many apologies for taking so long, but I will continue this fic. :D
Pairing: Yami no Bakura x Malik Ishtar.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: Slight shounen-ai, Bakura's potty mouth, and adult themes. :D
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All In My Head
Chapter three: What Drips But Doesn't Kill - Yet
There comes a time in one's life when they realize what their purpose in life is. I've thought about mine a lot, and I had been quite sure that my goal and destiny in life was to kill the pharaoh. He did, after all, kill my family, friends. He will one day pay for his crimes.
But, today, I'm coming to a different conclusion. After much pondering, I've decided that I have a new purpose in life. One destiny to fulfil.
And that destiny is to make Malik Ishtar's life hell.
Five, four, three, two, one…
"Holy fuck!"
Malik's eyes fly open as he growls loudly, looking drenched and a little cold, judging by the goosebumps breaking out over his sun-bronzed skin.
I snicker to myself, watching as Malik's soaked bangs stick to his forehead, water sliding down his temples and into livid lilac eyes that are currently trained on mine in a furious glare.
"Oops?" I offer with a smug smirk, edging away from the bed and retreating to the doorway, leaning against the frame with folded arms.
Malik sits up in the bed, mouth opening and closing as he attempts to string a few words together. I can feel the extremely irritated vibes he's giving off – the glare aimed at me is quite enough.
"Bakura," Malik growls, "what are you doing here? Hell, what am I doing here?" He begins to wring out his hair, slender fingers combing through it as he tries to get some of the water out.
Deciding to give him the only answer I can, I smirk. "You hit your head three days ago, Ishtar. You've been knocked out ever since."
Well, it is the truth. It's not as if I,of all people, would want to lie to my favourite minion.
… Wait.
Malik isn't a minion of mine. Hell, I don't even have minions - yet.
Malik is the one who had with minions. … Stupid trains of thought, giving Malik all the credit. YOU will be the first to be annihilated when I destroy the pharaoh, feeble mind.
"Bakura!" Malik snaps, drawing my attention to him immediately.
"Yeah?" I ask boredly, watching as Malik twitches and pushes himself up and off the bed, wearing a look that almost promises death.
Hey, maybe there is hope for Malik as a minion of mine after all. … Yes, I see it now. He could be my right-hand slave-boy… thing.
Heh. Slave.
"Why did you pour water on me?" Malik demands with a low hiss, approaching where I stand at the door, though I don't back down or move away. Nope. No way is this pathetic act getting to me. He couldn't pull off anger if he tried. His only talent is being irritating.
"Because you were snoring and you woke me up," I say bluntly, pointing at the digital clock next to Ryou's bed, which is flashing 2:00 AM in large, red numbers.
Malik pauses at that, his eyes following the direction I'm pointing in, a dismayed expression crossing his face in place of the angry one. "You mean it's this late at night and I'm not tired?"
… I simply nod, giving him a strange look. Perhaps I should take advantage of his temporary confused state and smother him with that pillow again. I don't know why I didn't murder him in his sleep.
"That's exactly what I meant." I smirk at him, eyes glinting with mischief as Malik's features darken again, giving him a fitting pissed-off look. "Something wrong, Malik?"
"No, not at all," Malik grinds out, pushing past me roughly, heading towards the bathroom. This obtains my attention, and I inquisitively turn and follow him as he stalks in there and slams the door shut.
"Ooh, cold," I taunt, smirking at no one in particular. I lean with my back against the bathroom door, folding my arms, ready to play the waiting game.
… I was a tomb thief. Give me some credit. I can be patient, you know.
… Yes, I can.
The sound of running water draws my attention back to reality, Malik's grumbles and mutters about 'stupid tomb thieves' loud enough to wake the dead.
… No pun intended.
I twist a lock of silvery hair around my finger for a moment, eyes alternating between the stairs and the bathroom door. Now, if only there's a way to-
… Of course. My new aim in life is to create hell for Malik, so what better time to start than now? I smirk wickedly, pushing off the bathroom door and walking away from the sound of gushing water. Why Malik is in Ryou's shower is beyond me, though.
… I blink, pausing in my journey down the stairs. Why is Malik in Domino, anyway? Hadn't he gone back to Egypt, after Battle City? There's no reason for him to be back here. The Ghouls are no longer a successful organization; the Rod is no longer in his possession, and he no longer holds any of the God Cards.
Frowning slightly, I begin to make my way down the stairs again, thoughts drifting here and there. Who knows if that idiot, Rishid, and that prophetess, Isis, came back here, too? Tch, families and their bonding habits. It truly is pathetic.
I move into the kitchen swiftly, brushing all other thoughts aside as my eyes come to rest upon the kitchen sink.
Malik showering. Turning on the hot water.
… It's a foolproof plan.
Snickering evilly, I place my hand over the tap, turning it left – 'hot'. This will rouse Malik from the shower, hopefully. Otherwise, he'll end up causing some sort of drought. Shame that would be.
I tilt my head towards the ceiling; just waiting, waiting…
Sure enough, several seconds later, an irritated yell is heard. It seems Malik is having a nice, cold shower, now. I wonder what happened to the heat. Hm. It's just what he needs – he was so riled up and hotheaded. Tch, talking about needing to cool off.
The shower stops running, and faint stomping sounds are evident. I smirk, moving away from the sink to sit at the kitchen table. I slide into a seat, propping my head on a hand and drumming my fingers against the table in a bored fashion. There'll be a lot of arguing commencing in here momentarily, no doubt.
Sure enough, just as expected, Malik Ishtar stalks into the kitchen, lilac eyes irate and features twisted into an unpleasant scowl. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Insert snicker here.
… Wait a moment. Malik's wearing only a towel, and even THAT barely covers his entire body. Beads of water are sliding down his temples, down his neck – his eyelashes are thick with water droplets, that burning gaze uncaring of the water. My eyes drift down Malik's finely toned body, taking in every inch of that sun-kissed skin. His towel is wrapped around his hips, one hand resting on it to keep it there, his other hand against the doorframe.
Hah. Does he ever look mad.
"Did you forger your shampoo?" I question him, having to refrain from sneering. This is just far too amusing; Malik looks as though he's about to blow a fuse. Funny, I could have sworn I saw him wearing that look during our little quarrel on the blimp whilst we were duelling Malik's darker half. Huh.
Damp bangs sliding into his eyes, Malik does little to push them away, instead shaking his head – good one, Malik; that didn't improve your hair difficulty. "No, it seems someone wanted me to get a cold backside," he bites out, eyeing me like a piece of meat.
Now, whether or not Malik wants to eat me, I'm not certain, but he's a vegetarian, so he must want to not eat me, but butcher me.
I can live with that.
"Well, I gathered that much, considering you're dripping from head to toe," I point out, standing and making my way over to the fridge. "Do you need assistance with drying yourself off, or are you just getting revenge?"
I can hear the perplexity in Malik's tone. "Why would I strut around here, half-naked, to get revenge on you?" he demands, glaring at me once again as I straighten, several packages of meat in my arms.
I move over to the bench, dropping the packages on it. "You tell me," I say flatly, unwrapping one of the packets and taking a mouthful of meat.
"I give up." Malik's eyes narrow in anger and he throws his free hand up in the air, before stalking back up the stairs, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the carpet. I raise an eyebrow after him, amused at the Egyptian's antics.
Wait. Isn't school tomorrow?
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A/N: That ends the third chapter, guys. :3 If you could dropa review, it'd be much appreciated. (And probably get my ass quicker in updating, too. -kicked-)