Notes: Not sure if I've mentioned this, but Use the Man is a song by Megadeth, about heroin. Listening to it probably makes the title a little clearer. Also... there's no way I'm going to make the deadline of the end of the month on finishing this fic, but I'll keep at it anyway. Hope you're all enjoying it so far. Un-beta'd again, because I'm sleepy and stuff.

Use the Man

Chapter 7

Sunday was the worst. About half way through the day Bakura realised that he'd existed for over five thousand years and in all that time he'd never, ever felt so ill. He couldn't move to get out of the bed, only lay there and suffer through waiting for it to be over. He didn't even know how long it was supposed to last – for all he knew he could feel like this for weeks.

It felt like dying, slowly. His entire body was drenched in sweat and shivering, his eyes unfocused when he could bear to open them. He felt nauseous but had spent the whole morning retching until there was nothing left and his throat was raw. He wished he could drink something to soothe the burning, but he couldn't even keep a glass of water down for more than a couple of minutes. A feverish heat had settled over him and it was too hot, even with the balcony doors wide open and a cool, damp wash cloth draped across his forehead.

Seto had sat with him for most of the day, refusing to leave him alone through what the CEO had assured him would be the most difficult time. The only consolation was that after this, it would get better. Slowly, perhaps, but at least he wouldn't have to go through hell like this again. Seto insisted on talking to him, and even half delirious Bakura could see what a strange thing that was. Seto had never – as far as Bakura knew – been one to indulge in conversations much. He was the same himself, but he had to admit that it was a welcome distraction. Something to focus on – Seto Kaiba's deep, smooth voice talking about that accursed card game, Mokuba, work at his company and whatever else seemed to spring to mind. Bakura wasn't really taking in what was being said, just listening to the intonation of the words and the odd sentence here and there. Occasionally he joined in the conversation if he was feeling lucid enough, but his throat hurt so much that he usually just let Seto speak. He wondered hazily if perhaps it was good for Seto to be speaking whatever was on his mind, since he probably didn't do it often.

"Do you think you could eat some of these?" Seto asked, Bakura only aware that he was being asked a question by the tone of Seto's voice. He turned his head to the side and opened his eyes, struggling to see what he was being offered and having a hard time believing that he wasn't really going to die from this. He might have been hungry, but even thinking about food made his stomach lurch. It was an odd sensation, being hungry and not wanting to eat at the same time. The shaking that seemed to be deep in his bones was worse due to the fact that he was so weak from not managing to keep anything down. However, Seto was offering a small plate of what seemed to be crackers, and strangely the sight of them didn't make him want to throw up.

"What are they?" The thief asked in a voice that had gone from it's usual husky tones to a rasp of pain.

"Just saltine crackers, they don't offer much in the way of nutrition, but they're easy to keep down. I hear pregnant women eat them to help soothe morning sickness." Seto explained, placing the crackers and a glass of cold, clear water on the bedside table.

"How do you even know that?" Bakura asked, managing the ghost of a smirk. "I will try some, but I need to sit up." He rasped, trying to push himself up with a shaking arm that wouldn't quite support him. Seto helped, his eyes drawn for a long moment to where the thief's white hair lay damp against his skin with sweat. After a little rearranging of pillows Bakura could lean back against them in a sitting position, taking a few moments for his head to stop spinning from the movement. He felt truly pathetic that even shifting such a small distance made him feel so dizzy, but he assured himself once again that this was exactly what he deserved for beginning on the road to something that could have caused Ryou so much pain. Sometimes he wondered if Ryou was really as fragile as he treated the hikari, but even if he wasn't... Ryou had been through enough because of him.

"Here," Seto helped Bakura rest the plate of crackers on his lap and the thief took a deep breath, still getting used to sitting up. Everything was still lurching slightly every time he turned his head, but he managed to take one of the crackers and raise it to his pale lips to try a little. It was dry and tasteless and instantly made him thirsty, but it didn't make the bile rise in his throat the way any other food did. Seto offered him the water and he took a sip shakily, managing to keep that down as well. He couldn't handle much, though, and after a couple of minutes Seto took the plate and glass so that he could collapse back against the wall of pillows behind him, groaning. The room was spinning again and he closed his eyes, breath picking up a little. He needed something else to focus on other than the dizzy, feverish feeling and the tingling, itching sensation in his blood. Seto was watching him worriedly, which made Bakura wonder again if this was all really about the drugs. Perhaps it had started that way, but Seto was treating him with a lot more care than he had to. Still, that could just have been to ensure that he made it through the withdrawals and didn't instantly head for the nearest needle, which he swore to himself he wouldn't do. It made him wonder how hard it would be, going back to his dank little apartment and opening that drawer. He would have to throw the last syringe away, there was one left. Would he be strong enough not to use it? Would he make some excuse to himself that it was the last one, and he might as well...? Right now he knew that if it was in front of him, he wouldn't be able to stop himself. If only to make the sickness stop, but once he made it out the other side he knew he had to be stronger than that. He wouldn't have Seto Kaiba watching him like a hawk – it would be up to him alone to get rid of that last needle. He just hoped he could do it, because he doubted that Seto would intervene twice. It might even kill him if he took it again.

"How are you feeling now?" Seto asked, as he did every hour or so. Bakura snapped out of his depressing thoughts and squeezed his eyes closed a little tighter, a migraine sending shooting pain through his skull.

"Like I have the plague. Are you quite sure this will not kill me?" He asked weakly, half hoping that it would. He had to see Ryou again, though. He had to look after him, find out how that date with Malik had gone yesterday, make sure that those idiots who hung around near the school gates weren't harassing him any more. Not that Ryou would have to worry about them for a few days anyway, since Bakura was fairly certain he'd hospitalized all three of them. He really didn't understand why they didn't just save themselves the pain and give up. Perhaps it was a matter of pride, not that they could ever beat him. Well, they probably could if they came across him at that particular moment, but Bakura was fairly sure Seto would never allow them on the grounds.

"It won't kill you. You'll start to feel better by tomorrow, I'm pretty sure this is the worst of it." The CEO assured, standing up and disappearing into the en suite bathroom for a moment before coming back with a cool cloth. He touched Bakura's forehead with the back of one hand, brushing damp, white hair aside to feel the burning skin. The thief was definitely still feverish, and Seto watched him sigh in relief at the cool wash cloth that replaced the brunette's hand after a few moments.

"I hope you are right, I have not felt this ill since I watched my family die." Bakura murmured quietly, allowing Seto to rearrange the pillow again so that he was reclining more than sitting in the bed. He was wearing nothing beneath the sheets – never having been particularly modest at the best of times – and it still felt far too hot.

"Were they really thieves?" Seto asked, knowing that Bakura needed something to take his mind off how sick he felt. The grave robber snorted derisively, raising a shaky hand to pull the cloth down from his forehead to cover his eyes as well, blocking out the daylight.

"You put far too much faith in the pharaoh's version of events." Bakura said, his voice a husky whisper because it was easier on his throat than trying to put any force behind his words.

"Then tell me the truth." Seto suggested, interested despite himself. Bakura stilled and tipped his head back a little, taking a long, deep breath against the dizziness and nausea.

"I do not remember them. I know they were not thieves. I know my home always smelled of food – there was always something baking. Perhaps that was what they did. All I know for certain is that I became a thief because of their deaths." The thief explained, shivering. The burning heat of fever was slowly melting away, only to be replaced with chills that did nothing to stop the cold sweat he felt drenched in. Seto seemed to notice the bouts of shivering that began to plague him and rose to shut the balcony doors, returning a moment later and draping another blanket over the thief, who could barely move. His entire body felt heavy as lead and he kept his eyes closed, Seto watching the soft frown of pain on his face and listening to the low moan that escaped his pale lips, accompanied by a slight arching of the thief's back. That small movement had Seto looking away, picking up the glass from the bedside table to busy himself with anything else other than how involuntarily attractive Bakura was being. It was prudent, he thought, to remind himself just who this person was. Yet again. An evil, half crazed murderer. One of Yami's greatest enemies, not that he held any particular feelings of warmth towards Yami himself.

"You... You look different without the coat..." Bakura's husky voice bought him back to the present and he put the glass down again, deciding to deal with it later. Clearly the thief needed something to occupy his attention, his eyes opening a little for a moment and then closing again weakly. There was no energy left in him to move, but his body wasn't quite ready to show mercy and let him pass out yet.

"Did you think I wore all that around the house?" Seto asked, sitting down in his chair and leaning back, trying to get comfortable and at the same time have a good view of Bakura. To make sure he was all right, Seto told himself firmly. Nothing more. He was only looking at the thief because he had to.

"I never really thought about it before, I suppose." Bakura admitted in a breathy voice, having been surprised that Seto even owned a pair of jeans. "What is that thing you wear around your neck when you are trying to intimidate people?" The grave robber asked weakly, absently wondering how long it'd been since he last had an actual conversation with anyone other than Ryou. Quite a while, by his reckoning.

"A tie?" Seto guessed, not quite sure what Bakura was getting at but amused that he was intimidated by it. Or at least that the thief thought that was why they were worn.

"Do you not realise how easy it would make strangling you?" Bakura murmured, an edge to his voice telling Seto that he wasn't quite aware of what he was saying. He still had his eyes closed and was skirting the edge of unconsciousness, slightly delirious from the fever.

"Perhaps I'll remember that and switch to a clip-on." The CEO said, more to himself than Bakura because he doubted the thief was taking in what he was saying anyway.

"I hate fashion." The tomb robber murmured dizzily, trying to force his eyes open for a moment before giving up. "If it's not Elizabethan ruffs it's random, fancily knotted strips of muted fabric. Practicality is lost on you people." He muttered, trying to fight his way through the haze that seemed to be filling his mind. "I hate... I hate being this helpless..."

Seto listened to Bakura's words, smirking slightly at the fashion comments. The last sentence was breathed in a pained whisper, and Seto knew he would have felt the same way if their positions were reversed. He leant forward and touched a hand to Bakura's forehead again, turning the damp cloth over. He was still too hot, even with the chills running through his thin frame, and every time Seto touched his skin he felt sparks and wanted to let his hand linger. That was normal, he told himself. It was just the heat from the fever. There was no attraction there. Was there?

"Nobody else will see you this way." Seto assured, watching Bakura struggle a little harder to force his eyes to open. He finally managed it and his crimson gaze swept over to Seto, unfocussed and exhausted.

"...Thank you..." The thief whispered, words he hadn't said to anyone but Ryou in longer than he could remember. Once the words were out his eyes fluttered closed and he collapsed back again, giving a soft, breathless moan as unconsciousness finally swept over him. It was a welcome respite.

Seto watched Bakura's shivering body fall limp, the soft, weak words still echoing in his mind. He got the impression that Bakura didn't thank people often – mostly because acts of kindness were generally not extended to him. Seto wasn't sure he considered what he was doing an act of kindness – still firmly telling himself that it was all due to his hatred of drugs – but he appreciated the words anyway. Appreciated how hard they must have been to say. It showed that Bakura was no longer angry at him for bringing him to the mansion and forcing him to suffer through the withdrawals – that he actually wanted to get himself clean as well. All in all, a good sign.

The small, soft little moan Bakura had given as he'd passed out sent a shiver of lust through Seto, who stared at the unconscious thief for a few minutes. He had long eyelashes, for a male. They dusted his pale skin, which was usually an icy white that never failed to reinforce the fact that he wasn't entirely a normal human being. At the moment his cheeks were flushed with fever, his breath coming out in heated little gasps that were doing nothing for Seto's self control. Alright, he finally admitted to himself as he stood and stared down at the sleeping creature on the bed. There was something there. One would have to be blind not to consider Bakura attractive – in a sharp, hollow and malevolent way – so it was perfectly natural. He would never act on it, of course, and thinking about it was pointless. A waste of his time, since nothing would come of it. Still, telling himself that he wouldn't think about what Bakura's husky voice would sound like deepened with lust and not thinking about it were two different things. It was a lot harder to put the thief out of his mind than he'd imagined.

Shaking his head and sighing in annoyance at himself, Seto decided to leave Bakura to sleep for a while and get on with some work. His office was only a few doors down the hall, and he would hear Bakura if he needed anything. That thought led to a replay of the way the thief had moaned and arched his back up from the bed earlier, being so alluring without even realising it. This train of thought needed to be derailed before it went anywhere, Seto knew. Growling in frustration, he headed for the door.

It was going to be really, really hard to concentrate on coding tonight.

TBC