Disclaimer – Don't own them, although if I did, Bakura would be far much more like me. Oh wait . . . he already is. Never mind.

Author's Notes – In the midst of writing Going On, this popped into my head. Why, I haven't the foggiest, but I certainly started giggling over it enough that I simply had to write it. So, here's a short from Bakura : ) Have fun. It was going to be a one shot, but I think I'll just see where this goes from here.

Affectionate Thoughts In A Disturbed Mind

Chapter 1

Staggering home from a bar is not something I particularly enjoy, but it's better than the alternative, which would have been to stay in my hikari's presence all night. That was definitely not an option . . . with the way I've been feeling lately, I would either have killed him before the dawn came, or have fucked him into the floor.

Somehow, some way, I have come to see Ryou as something other than a mere annoyance. I don't know when it happened . . . perhaps it started when Marik forced me to choose between winning and saving his hide. The problem is, that only started my downward spiral into what can only be complete and total madness.

Being separated from Ryou and trapped in the Puzzle instead of the Shadow Realm wasn't exactly a walk in the desert either. I would have thought that the brief respite from my annoying host would have been welcome . . . instead, I'd found most of my time spent wondering if he was all right. Disturbing, when I didn't give a camel's ass about the little brat at any other time. Hell, I'd even cut him to seal the bargain between Marik and myself . . . so now why do I suddenly regret that action, and the events following it?

This has been going on for months now . . . and I have never had months seem so much like a millennia in my entire unlife. I think I would rather be trapped in the Ring for the rest of eternity than suffer through this annoying sappiness that seems to have caught me in it's playful little paws.

I've even caught myself being NICE to Ryou . . . when the hell had THAT word entered my vocabulary?

Whoa . . . trees are not a good thing to run into . . . wait a second! What the hell am I doing in the park!? I was heading home . . . right? Shaking my head doesn't help matters . . . it merely makes the world tilt in odd little ways that remind me of the Pharaoh's soul room.

A surge of anger and hatred wash through me, chasing away the strange dizziness. That fucking Pharaoh . . . gods, how I hate him! I can't really even remember why anymore . . . three thousand years does tend to make one a little forgetful, especially when it is spent alone in a cursed item in a little room hardly any bigger than one of the cells of the palace. I know he took something from me, but I'll be damned before I figure out what it was. Oh wait . . . I'm already damned, so scratch that thought. I will be saved before I figure it out . . . yeah, that is the correct wording.

Oh look . . . someone's come out to play with me. My wallet? What in the world would I need money for? I steal what I want, when I want, you pathetic mortal shit . . . money is useless when you're a thief. Glitter of moonlight on steel . . . a knife? Oh . . . you want to compare toys? Okay, this I can do. See, mine is bigger, shinier, prettier . . . sharper. You're bleeding already, and I've barely even begun.

No, no . . . no running now, my friend. You wanted to play with me, but you didn't set any rules. Even the Pharaoh isn't that stupid . . . he always sets rules to his games. Your blood is beautiful against your pale skin . . . what would Ryou look like, with that gorgeous crimson fluid adorning his pure skin? Hmm . . . now I'm annoyed. I don't want to think of my hikari right now . . . I want to forget him and the feelings he's begun evoking in me. I know, I'll wash it away on a red tide of fluid . . . yours, actually. I hope you don't mind.

Ahh . . . better. I feel like myself again, only so much more so than I have in a long time. Thank you . . . oh, never mind. You're in no condition to accept my thanks . . . or anything else for that matter. Perhaps I did play a little too rough. Oh well . . . it's not like I can give you back your life. Once stolen, never returned after all.

I want to see Ryou. But that's wrong, isn't it? Why do I want to see that brat suddenly? What is wrong with me?

My lovely little hikari . . . so innocent, so beautiful. When did I fall in love with you? Wait a moment . . . love? I feel giddy suddenly . . . maybe I took too much blood. It's making me think weird things, like falling in love with my runt of a host. I couldn't possibly have fallen in love with him . . . could I? That would be the very definition of insanity!

Then again, everyone already thinks I'm completely off the camel, so why not? Why couldn't I be in love him? Wait . . . what the hell am I thinking!? I know why I can't be in love with him . . . because I don't LOVE anyone! Not even myself! That four letter word shouldn't even be in my vocabulary, for Ra's sake!

Hmmm . . . this blood is cold, and I'm positively saturated with it. One of these days I'll remember not to go for the throat . . . it makes too much of a mess, and wasting blood has never been a pleasant thing. I'm getting strange looks from people too . . . well, it's their own damn fault. They shouldn't be out this late at night.

Ah, home is within sight. Wonderful. I'll feel better after a nice hot shower . . . wait a second. The lights are still on. Ryou . . . my hikari should be in bed by now! What in the nine hells is going on?

Uh oh . . . he's opened the door. He must have seen me coming. Well, fuck. This will be a bit hard to explain . . . wait a minute! I don't have to explain anything to him, damn it! He looks so concerned though . . . disgusted, but concerned none the less. Why the hell should he care if the blood is mine or someone else's?

No, Ryou, the blood isn't mine. Just some thug that tried to rob me. Yes, I'm fine . . . he needs a mortician, but I'm just great. Better than normal, in fact. Why did you wait up for me? Because you were concerned? What the hell are you on? Don't touch me! I don't want his blood on you. I don't want you tainted by his filth . . . or mine.

Why is he looking at me like I'm a fish that just got up and walked out of the Nile? Oh wait . . . I said that last thought out loud, didn't I? Well, shit . . . this complicates things considerably. Now what the hell am I supposed to say? I could cover it up with the typical gruff response, back hand him out of the way, and go take my shower and sort myself out. Strangely enough, I don't want to hurt him. My hand is raised, and he's flinching away . . . and something within me just simply hurts to see that. Damn it . . . I'm becoming soft.

I'll simply walk by him and pretend he doesn't exist. That always works, right? Ah, away from those beautiful, depthless eyes at last. Whoa . . . did I just call his eyes beautiful? Well, if I'm honest with myself, they are. Such a warm color, that chocolate brown . . . and so innocent and pure. Gah, I'm turning into a sap! Ra, somebody, smack me. This is getting ridiculous.

Enough of this bullshit my mind seems intent on needling me with . . . hot water and soap are definitely becoming necessary. This stuff is beginning to get really disgusting. Hot, fresh blood is nice . . . cold, clumpy blood is not. And it's matting my hair . . . completely disgusting. Ahhh . . . that is nice. Hot water taking the chill of outside from deep within my bones, and washing this coagulating mess from my skin.

Hmm . . . I don't remember this scar. Where did this come from, I wonder? Who, in my past life, did I piss off enough for them to try to kill me that way? Could have been any number of people, I suppose . . . I wasn't exactly the most popular person back then. Of course, I'm not exactly popular now either . . . although they seem to like me a bit more than Marik's demented little piss-ant of a dark. Oh, wait, I know why. Because I do my own dirty work, unlike that idiot who had to hide behind mind controlled puppets in order to get anything done. Now there's some twisted logic . . . they like me because I do my own evil instead of having someone else do it for me. Weird, but then again, none of them are what I would consider bright. Well, other than the Pharaoh's little hikari and the stick up his ass CEO.

Clean and warm and . . . without clothes. Shit. Well, Ryou should have gone to bed by now, so I can just walk down to my room and get dressed there. Open the door and . . . oh hell. Hello Ryou.