AN: This fic has already been uploaded on AO3 for a while, but I want to get all my fics from there uploaded to here as well eventually. It might take me a few days to upload the whole thing because there are various formatting things I have to do for each chapter for this site. The chapters on AO3 are super short, so I'll be combining multiple chapters into one for this upload because the way I have the files saved makes it easier to do that way. The chapters will just be separated by numbers and a line break.

Especially in the beginning, each chapter is sort of a "slice of life" moment that doesn't necessarily come directly after the previous chapter. Everything is in chronological order, but an indeterminate amount of days or weeks is passing in between each chapter. At first, the story will just seem like a series of random events from their daily lives, but as the fic goes on the larger plot will slowly become clear. Small hints will be dropped about what is really going on, and things get creepier as the story progresses! But ultimately there will be a happy ending. Along the way there will be some spooky stuff and canon-typical violence, but everything turns out alright.

Before reading you should also know that the word "heka" just means magic in ancient Egyptian.

My user name is the same on AO3 as it is here, so head over there if you want to read the fic there. On AO3, this fic also has some really cool fanart included that you can see! I've used it as a cover image here, so go to AO3 to see the full version of the art. Anyways I hope you enjoy the story! I appreciate all reviews and favorites, so please let me know what you think!

-1-

Bakura woke to the daylight streaming through the curtains. He rolled over, and saw Malik was still asleep. He took a moment to admire the way the sunlight reflected off of Malik's golden hair.

If Malik had had any nightmares last night, Bakura would have let him sleep a little longer. But Malik had been peaceful all night. Bakura was a light sleeper, his senses honed from sleeping by himself in a dangerous desert for so many years, where he'd always needed to be alert to the slightest threat, and so he always woke up at the smallest sound of distress or troubled movement from Malik.

But Bakura had slept straight through the night, so he knew Malik must have as well. Which meant Malik ought to be well-rested, so there was no reason he shouldn't get up now and entertain Bakura.

Bakura poked him in the bicep, and when he got no reaction, he poked him a little harder.

"Ugh," Malik said. He squinted at Bakura, looking irritable.

"Morning, sunshine." Bakura only used the nickname when Malik seemed grumpy, and always said it in a sarcastic voice, as if he were making fun of him for being in a bad mood. But secretly he was sincere about the pet name. Malik was all light and warmth and gold.

Or maybe it wasn't so secret. He was pretty sure Malik knew what he really meant. So he didn't know why he bothered keeping up the charade, pretending he was only teasing Malik.

He supposed it was just the way they were.

After all, Malik didn't have a pet name for him, unless asshole counted as a pet name. Which, coming from Malik, it sort of did.

"There had better be a good reason you're waking me up, asshole," Malik grumbled.

Bakura smiled.

"I want breakfast," Bakura said.

"So?"

"So, you should make it for me." Bakura paused. "Besides, it's boring to have breakfast alone."

Malik groaned. "You're getting cereal."

Malik did get up, though, and shuffled into the kitchen, and Bakura followed.

Malik almost always said Bakura was just getting cereal, but it usually wasn't true.

Today, however, Malik did get out two bowls, dumping wheat flakes into his own and some generic brand of chocolate cereal into Bakura's.

Bakura didn't complain. He liked chocolate for breakfast.

Malik still seemed half-asleep throughout breakfast. He didn't say much to Bakura, just scrolling through his phone, looking at gods knew what.

At times like this, Bakura sort of wished he had his own phone. But getting one seemed pointless. It wasn't like he had any friends besides Malik, so he didn't have anyone to call or text. If he really wanted to get on the internet, he could use the desktop computer, but he mostly used the computer for playing video games.

"You slept alright, didn't you?" Bakura finally asked as they finished their small breakfast and Malik got up to rinse their bowls.

"Yeah, yeah. Dunno why I'm so tired."

"I know what will wake you up," Bakura said, giving him a sly, hopeful look.

"I already know what you're going to say, and the answer is no!"

"Monopoly!" Bakura exclaimed, throwing his hands up in mock enthusiasm.

"I said no! Gods, no, Bakura. The last time we played, it took six hours and we didn't even get to finish because you went ballistic and flipped the board when you landed on my hotel on Park Place!"

"I landed on it like five fucking times in a row! There's no way that was legit, you had to have switched out the dice with a loaded set!"

"That doesn't even make sense!" Malik exclaimed.

"Then how do you explain me landing on it so many times? You were obviously cheating somehow!" Bakura yelled.

"You're the one who was cheating!" Malik shot back. "I damn well know you were palming the dice the entire time!"

"Exactly! So there's no way I got five bad rolls in a row unless you were cheating!"

Malik smacked his own forehead. "This is exactly why I'm not playing that dumb game with you! We're not even playing yet and you're already making me want to kill you over it!"

Bakura threw back his head and laughed while Malik just glared at him. Bakura finally sobered and gave Malik his best Ryou-like entreating gaze. "Come on, it will be fun. Please?"

But Malik wasn't moved. "I said no! Now stop bothering me about it. I'm going to take a shower." With that Malik strode from the kitchen of their small apartment, heading for the bathroom.

Bakura let him go. Five minutes later, he shed his clothes and slipped into the shower with Malik, planning to give him a little convincing.

Malik sat cross legged on the floor of the living room, his face still flushed and eyes still hazy from orgasm. He moved his top hat piece to Free Parking. He didn't get anything out of it, since Bakura insisted that they play by the official rules, which stated that Free Parking was simply a free space where nothing happened. Bakura had always been particular about winning and losing in certain ways. "Your turn," Malik sighed.

Bakura smiled and rolled the dice. Of course, he landed on the exact property he wanted.

Malik tuned out as Bakura started talking about the mathematical probability of landing on certain properties and why it was therefore best to own those properties.

"You're such a nerd," Malik said as he took the dice and threw them across the board. He had a feeling it was going to be a long game.

-2-

Bakura was so absorbed in his project that if it weren't for the fact that Malik always slammed the door as hard as he could when he returned from work, Bakura probably wouldn't have heard him come home.

As it was, the loud crash broke Bakura's concentration, startling him so much he stumbled a bit, almost toppling off the step ladder he was perched on.

He caught his balance and growled to himself, then reached up again with his paintbrush to continue blending blue into darker blue.

He'd been working on creating the scene on their bedroom ceiling all day. He often got bored when Malik was at work, and painting their ceiling had seemed to him like as good of a distraction as any.

But his renewed concentration didn't last long, as he soon heard a cacophony of pots and pans crashing together in the kitchen, occasionally punctuated by the slamming of cabinet doors.

At least the noise didn't startle him, since he'd expected it this time. Malik was always in a tiff when he got home from work, and seemed to like to make as much noise as possible as a result, taking his frustration out on the objects in their apartment.

Bakura didn't bother calling out to him. Malik always seemed to forget what he'd been angry about after being back in their home for a few minutes. By the time Malik was done making their dinner, he would be feeling better.

But the noise went on, and soon proved too much of an irritant for Bakura to properly concentrate on his painting. He sighed, climbing down off the ladder and throwing his paintbrush into the mixing tray.

Bakura considered just hiding out in the bedroom until Malik's tantrum was over, but the noises continued, making it impossible for him to relax. Finally, as the jangle and scrape of silverware being thrown full-force into the sink made him wince, he decided to march to the kitchen and confront Malik.

He might have had more sympathy, but he didn't see why Malik chose to have a job anyways. Malik had to have had plenty of riches from his clan, so it wasn't as if they needed the money. But any attempt by Bakura to discuss this was always brushed off, so obviously Malik didn't want his advice. Malik wouldn't even talk about what it was that happened at work that always made him so pissed off.

So Bakura strode to the kitchen and said, the irritation clear in his voice, "Can you please fucking keep it down? I'm trying to work on something."

Malik shot him a withering look. "That's the thanks I get for making you dinner? Maybe I'll just throw your meat out the window and eat all these potatoes myself." Malik turned his attention back to stirring some mixture in a pot on the stove, seeming to dismiss Bakura.

"Do you want me to mess it up because all the noise you're making is distracting me? Because then you'll have to live with it too, you ass."

Malik slowly turned back to Bakura, eyes widening as something seemed to dawn on him. "Wait, what are you working on? Why will I have to live with it if it gets messed up?"

"I guess you could call it sort of...a home improvement project."

Malik narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Are you fucking up the apartment somehow, Bakura? Because I swear—"

Bakura scoffed. "Damn, have a little more faith in me than that. I think it's something you'll like...if you can be quiet enough to let me properly finish it."

Malik gave the white mixture in the pot another stir and then removed it from the burner. Despite Bakura having come out here to berate him, he seemed to be in a calmer mood now, his lips quirking up a little as he said, "Well, for your sake I hope this isn't something that will make me regret cooking you your old favorite meal, asshole."

Bakura raised his eyebrows. "Roasted pork?"

"Yeah. Though I still think you only liked it because you weren't supposed to have it."

Bakura rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner, obviously just acting now, getting into their game of verbal sparring. "I told you, I liked it because it was expensive, and because it wasn't very common to get hold of any meat other than fish back when I lived in Egypt. So of course I loved it when I actually got to eat a real chunk of meat."

"But still, in your culture you weren't really supposed to eat it. Don't tell me that wasn't an attraction for you." Malik slipped an oven mitt onto his hand and opened the oven, bending to remove the pork loin and a tray of potatoes.

"Sure, pork was considered taboo—most the year anyways—but I obviously never cared about those kinds of conventions. No matter what the time or place, there are always some stupid social rules, and I couldn't care less about them."

"Most of the year?" Malik thought for a moment. "Oh, yeah, they used to eat it to celebrate the anniversary of Set being defeated by Horus, right? Since Set considered pigs sacred?"

"Did I ever tell you that was the only day of the year I refused to eat it?"

Malik laughed. "That sounds like you." He set about dishing out the roasted potatoes onto two plates, adding the pork loin to Bakura's plate, and then pouring the creamy mixture from the pot into a bowl for himself. "Oh, do you want any of the potato soup?"

"Nah, that would be too many potatoes in one meal. I can only deal with a certain amount of vegetables at one time."

Malik rolled his eyes and proceeded to set their food on the table.

Bakura shrugged. "Anyways, I kinda liked Set. He wasn't too bad...for a god."

"I can see why." Malik winked as Bakura opened the refrigerator to get out a couple cans of soda.

The two sat down at the table, and Bakura looked at the browned meat with hunger. "Now that I've been able to try a good rare steak, I do prefer that," he admitted. "But really, who doesn't like a big hunk of pork?"

"I'll bet the way I make it is way better than what you had back then." Malik started in on his soup.

Bakura ignored the fork and knife Malik had futilely laid out at his place at the table, grabbing the pork with his bare hands and tearing a chunk out of it with his teeth, letting the juice drip down his face. "You do use a lot more spices and stuff," he said, mouth full. "It was pretty bland back in Egypt."

Malik let out a long-suffering sigh. "I'm not even going to say anything…"

"You should follow my lead and eat quicker." Bakura tore off another piece of meat. "I want us to hurry and finish so I can show you what I was doing in the bedroom."

Malik's eyes went round. "Oh, hell, I forgot all about that!"

Bakura smiled. "Come on, hurry up and you can see what it is. I really think you'll like it."

"I'd better," Malik said with a sulk, but he did speed up, spooning more soup into his mouth.

The two were silent after that, concentrating on finishing their meal quickly instead of talking. Once they were done, Malik threw the dishes into the sink, and he must have really been eager to see what Bakura had to show him, because he didn't even bother to rinse the dishes and load them into the dishwasher.

Malik followed Bakura into the bedroom. At first, he just glanced around at the mess of stained tarps and paint cans, but then Bakura pointed to the ceiling and Malik looked up and gasped.

"Oh…"

Bakura rubbed his head. "I just hadn't done anything artistic in a while, so I thought…"

"Yeah, you used to make those dolls and paint figurines...I've been saying you should…" Malik broke off, seeming entranced by the sight above him.

"Do you like it? It's not quite done, but..."

Malik blinked, a smile spreading across his face as he gazed up at the painting. Above his side of the bed was a scene of the night sky, the deepest blue background speckled with white stars, and the pale moon that seemed to shine down on him just as Bakura knew it did when Malik was a child and looked up through the hole in the rocky ceiling of the tomb, dreaming of freedom and the outside world.

"It's beautiful," Malik said, sounding almost awestruck, and Bakura couldn't help but smile as he looked down at his feet.

Malik continued staring upwards as he walked around the bed to get a better look at the rest of the mural. His eyes panned to the scene above Bakura's side of the bed, where the near-black of the painted night sky from Malik's side faded into a much lighter blue, depicting the sky in the daytime. Fluffy white clouds surrounded a circular shape ringed by golden streaks which was supposed to be the sun, though it wasn't painted in yet.

"Look," Bakura said. "I'll bet you'll like this even better."

Bakura walked over to the wall and flicked off the light switch. The small lamp on the table beside Malik's side of the bed that was never turned off still provided some light, but it was now dim enough in the room to see that the places on the ceiling that were painted white glowed in the dark.

Malik laughed with delight. "That's so cool!"

"See? Now aren't you sorry for acting like a pissy jerk?"

"I wasn't pissy," Malik said, sounding distracted.

Bakura flipped the light back on. "Sure, sure. Anyways, you can help me finish it, if you want. I just have to do a little more blending of the blue hues between the daytime part and the nighttime part, but you could paint in the sun."

"I don't really know anything about art. I don't want to mess it up."

"You do your makeup, right? That's sort of like painting. I'm sure you can color in a sun. I'll let you know what colors to use. If you really screw up, I'll just paint over it."

Malik smiled. "Alright, then."

There was only one ladder, but Malik was tall enough to reach the ceiling using the stepping stool they kept in their hall closet, so they got to work.

Malik did mess up a couple times, so Bakura fixed it for him, and once he was finished he darted the hand holding his paintbrush out to dab a bit of yellow paint onto the tip of Malik's nose.

Bakura could tell Malik was using all his willpower to refrain from retaliating. "You know if you try to get me back, it'll turn into a whole paint fight, and then your precious fashionable clothing and silk sheets will end up covered in paint," Bakura laughed. "So you can't do a thing."

"Fuck. You," Malik said through gritted teeth, clearly annoyed because he knew Bakura was right. Bakura chortled and went back to putting the finishing touches on the part of the sky he was working on.

Malik did take his revenge, though, by teasing Bakura about being short enough to need a ladder, and Bakura scowled and cursed at him. But he couldn't help the secret smile that kept stealing onto his lips every time he looked out of the corner of his eye and saw Malik with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he made the sun bright, and wondered if the white glow of the moon ever reminded Malik of him.

-3-

Bakura opened his eyes, but saw nothing. It was pitch black.

Tendrils of dread began to creep into his chest. He wasn't at home. It was never dark at home, because Malik hated the dark.

The silence was shattered by a loud wail, followed by another, and then another until there were more voices than he could count, their cries of agony blending into one horrible, head-splitting sound.

Bakura's hands came up to cover his ears, but it had no effect. He could still hear them.

"They're not really here," he told himself. "They're not really here."

"Are you sure about that?" a rumbling, sinister voice asked.

He looked around for the source of the voice, but instead saw the faces of the wailing spirits—or was it just one face? No, there were many faces, but each one was superimposed on top of another, and all of them were melting, their skin dripping like wax as they screamed. The features of the hybrid face seemed to shift between ones vaguely familiar to him and ones he didn't think he knew at all.

But one had to be his mother, another his sister—why couldn't he remember their faces?

"They're not really here," he said again. "They're safe."

He didn't remember how he knew that.

Suddenly, the noise cut out and the ghostly apparitions disappeared, leaving Bakura with a ringing in his ears and a fading after-image in front of his eyes. It was pitch dark again for a moment, and then his vision was filled with a huge, inhuman creature displaying dripping fangs and giant claws, its slick black skin catching just enough light from somewhere to make it visible.

But he still couldn't see it well enough to make out much. Was it Zorc? But Zorc was dead...wasn't he? It didn't matter, though. There were all kinds of demons in the shadows.

"That was fun," the creature said in its deep voice. "What should we do now?"

Bakura tried to scramble away from it, but an appendage shot out before he could blink, and he felt sharp claws sink into his shoulder.

He cried out, struggling, but the creature held him fast, and then it raked its claws down his arm, rending the flesh there. Bakura saw the blood flow out of the wound as he tried to kick at the thing that trapped him. A second set of claws sunk into his chest, slashing downwards and tearing his skin apart, and he screamed again as he felt the bright sting.

"Bakura," he heard, but the sound was faint, seeming to come from a great distance.

He stared at the blood dripping down his wounded body.

"Bakura!" Louder this time. Closer. "Bakura!"

He looked up, alert. It was Malik. Malik was calling him back, bringing him home.

"Bakura, come on!"

Bakura felt himself fading. It was like fainting, except that he didn't feel as if he were falling down into blackness, but rather that he was being pulled somewhere else, somewhere there was light.

He let himself relax. He was going to Malik.

The demon bared its teeth, snarling at him. "You can't get away forever. I will see you again soon."

"Bakura! Bakura, stop! You have to wake up!"

Bakura gasped as his eyes shot open. As he came back to his senses, the first thing he was aware of was Malik's grip tight around his body—too tight. Malik's arms were locked around him, pinning his arms down to his sides, and one of his hands had been pulled behind his own back, Malik gripping his wrist hard, almost twisting his arm.

"Malik? Malik, why are—not so tight, okay?"

Relief washed over Malik's face. "You're really awake, right? You're not going to hurt yourself any more?"

"What are you talking about?"

Malik's grip slackened a little, but he didn't let go. "Bakura, look." Malik nodded towards Bakura's shoulder, and Bakura looked down, letting out a gasp at the sight of the open wounds and the blood dripping down his arm.

"Fuck!" yelled Bakura. "How did—" He broke off, cold fear gripping him as the memory of the dark demon came back to him.

"You were clawing at yourself," Malik said. He finally let go of Bakura's wrist and stopped restraining him, switching to holding him instead, though his grip was still tighter than usual.

Bakura gave him a dubious look. "I did that?"

"Yes, I fucking watched you. Hell, Bakura, you were ripping yourself apart. I tried to stop you, but...you were thrashing so much, and by the time I could get ahold of you, you'd already done...that."

The pain hit Bakura suddenly. His arm burned and ached, and his chest felt the same. Feeling weak, he let himself lean into Malik, and Malik supported his weight.

"Do you have any idea why you did that?" Malik asked. "Was it a nightmare?"

Bakura nodded slowly. "I dreamed...that a demon was clawing me apart."

Malik seemed to try to smile. "Well next time, don't act it out, alright? You fucking *scared* me."

"Sorry," Bakura said quietly, curling into Malik and laying his head on his chest.

"Ra, don't apologize." Malik grabbed his face and turned it up towards him, giving Bakura a searching look. "You never apologize. Are you...alright?"

Bakura couldn't help barking out a laugh, though he couldn't explain why he had that reaction. "I'm sure I'll live. Hurts, though."

Malik suddenly grabbed his hand and held it up in front of his face. "I didn't even notice your nails were this long. You have to cut these, Bakura."

"Not like we had nail clippers in ancient Egypt," Bakura muttered.

Malik smiled a little more genuinely now, seeming to realize that if Bakura was trying to bicker with him then he couldn't be too badly off. "I'm going to go get something to clean you up, alright? You're bleeding all over my silk sheets."

"What, you want me to move?" Bakura scoffed.

"Don't you dare," Malik said. He climbed off the bed and left the room.

It wasn't long before Malik was back with a wet washcloth and a bottle of disinfectant. Bakura hissed and complained as Malik cleaned the wounds on his arm and chest, and Malik pressed a kiss to his hair or his skin every time he made a pained sound, but didn't stop his task.

When Malik was finally done, he said, "I don't think we even have any bandages. I guess we can wrap one of your shirts around these cuts to keep you from bleeding everywhere."

"Why not one of your shirts?"

Malik let out a derisive laugh. "My shirts are nice."

Malik went and dug around in one of Bakura's drawers until he found a couple of his plain T-shirts. He set about ripping them up, and then tied the strips around Bakura's arm and chest.

"I'm having deja vu," Bakura commented. "You did this to me once before, on the day we met. You used my shirt that time, too."

"Ryou's shirt," Malik corrected him. "And yeah, I have to nurse you too often. You need to quit making yourself bleed."

"Not like I did it on purpose this time!"

Malik smiled and, now that the task was done, he took Bakura into his arms and cuddled him close, petting his hair and stroking his skin. Bakura let his arms find their way around Malik's waist, though he winced when he moved his injured arm.

They were silent for a moment. Bakura closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of Malik's fingers trailing up and down his back.

When he heard Malik let out a little yawn, Bakura said, "Do you...want to try to go back to sleep?"

Malik must have heard the hesitation in his voice. "Nah, I probably couldn't even sleep right now. I'm a bit tired, but...we can always take a nap later. Not like we have any pressing appointments today or anything."

"So you're not going to work today?" Bakura asked, hopeful. He was more shaken than he wanted to admit, and he really didn't want to be left alone.

Malik gave him a confused look. "Of course not. What are you talking about?"

Bakura shrugged. He supposed it must have been Saturday. Or Sunday. He wasn't exactly sure. It wasn't as if he had a job himself, so there really wasn't any reason for him to keep track of the days of the week. He supposed he could see why that would seem weird to Malik, though. And he didn't want to worry him further. He really was going to be fine, so there was no reason to stress Malik out about it. "Oh, yeah. Right. Maybe I'm still half asleep."

"That nightmare must have really scrambled your head." Malik looked down at the makeshift bandages that were already tinged with red, shaking his head. "Well, I guess I can see that it did."

"So, if we're staying up, what do you want to do?" Bakura asked, changing the subject.

"Well, I suppose since you're wounded, you can choose. As long as it's not fucking Monopoly."

"We could watch a horror movie," Bakura said.

Malik burst out laughing. "Only you would want to watch a horror movie at a time like this!"

"Well...as long as it's not Nightmare on Elm Street."

Malik laughed harder at that. "You can choose the movie. Go set it up. I'm going to grab you some painkillers. Do you want a snack, too?"

Bakura nodded. "You choose something. You know what I like."

A few minutes later, they were snuggled up together on the couch, sharing a bowl of peanuts and cheese cubes. They each had a glass of lemonade, and Bakura had swallowed the aspirin Malik had brought him.

Bakura pressed play on the remote. Malik asked, "So what are we watching?"

"Jason X."

Malik chuckled. "You always want to watch the silliest things."

"Shut up, or I'll make you watch the Thankskilling sequel."

Malik put his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright."

"Anyways, I think a horror-comedy is appropriate right now. I guess I'm not really in the mood for anything too serious. Besides, this is unironically my favorite Friday the 13th movie."

"It's fine, I said you could choose. We can watch something more serious sometime later, when the mood is a little lighter. I was thinking I should see Jacob's Ladder at some point. Everyone says it's a classic."

"I dunno. The twist has already been ruined for me, so I don't know how much I'd enjoy it." Bakura shrugged and popped a cheddar cheese cube into his mouth. "But how can you not love this movie? I mean, the frozen exploding head? Virtual reality Crystal Lake? Sleeping bag murder? It's fucking awesome."

Bakura was giddy just thinking about the upcoming kills in the movie, and Malik laughed happily at his excitement. "You're right, it's pretty great."

"If you want to watch something more serious next time, we can try some episodes of Night Visions. It's a damn travesty that show was cancelled so soon, but they finally have all the episodes online."

"Sounds good," said Malik, then tossed a handful of peanuts into his mouth.

They quieted after that, munching on their snacks and watching the movie.

When the movie was over, they played Mario Kart until long after the sun came up, then finally went back to the bedroom and curled up together to nap throughout the afternoon. Bakura had no more nightmares.