A/N: Part of my "Bank Robbing" universe. (Title subject to change) Currently includes the fics "I'm Never Robbing a Bank With You Again", "Cops and Robbers", "We'll Never Know", and "Lonely Darkness". Atem and Yami Bakura are professional robbers, Kaiba's a cop, Yuugi is Atem's little brother, and Yami Malik is a money lender/bartender. Pairings established in this universe so far are Darkshipping, Antagoshipping, mostly one-sided Kleptoshipping, comepltely one-sided Clashshipping, and for good measure, polarshipping. This here is going to be Psychoshipping, Yami Malik x Yami Bakura.
I am participating in NaNoWriMo, making the timing of this contest VERY INCONVIENIENT. (glare at Compy, who will probably just laugh and say it's my fault for signing up. Which it is.)
Previously: Yami Bakura and Atem are on the outs after their most recent fight. Atem goes drinking in Malik's bar and discovers that Bakura owes the barkeep money. Malik kidnaps and tortures Atem, who manages to escape. Now, Bakura's meeting up with Malik, to pay him back in some form.
Malik was wiping a glass when Bakura quite literally burst through the door. Luckily for Malik, the hinges were stronger than the lock, or the thief's kick would have been considerably more expensive to repair. The door smashed into the bar wall, the hinges just barely holding together.
"You're paying for the lock," Malik said nonchalantly, still focusing on his glass. Bakura growled, a demon framed by moonlight in the open doorway.
"Oh, I'll pay you back." A scowl curled on lips that usually smirked. His knuckles were white from clenched fists, his jaw sore from a clenched jaw, and every fiber of him aching to leap across the room and tear Malik limb from limb.
"Are you threatening me, 'Thief King' Bakura?" Malik laughed, cocking his head. That tore it. Bakura traversed the span of the room in three running strides, hopped the bar, and grabbed the front of Malik's shirt in the time it took the barkeep to blink.
"I don't think it's called 'threatening' when I punch you in the face," Bakura snarled, pulling his fist back.
"You do love him," Malik rolled his head back, still smirking. "Go ahead, hit me then."
Bakura obliged, landing his punch square in Malik's stomach. The thief pulled back as Malik doubled over, wheezing.
"Good!" He laughed breathlessly. "I hurt him! You love him! You need to hurt me to get revenge for him!" Dropping to his hands and knees, he kept laughing. Bakura, the feared demon thief king, found anxiety stirring in his gut. His instincts were screaming to kill Malik, run, or both. Shouting in frustration that this scrawny, powerless man should make him so afraid, Bakura kicked Malik in the chest. He flew backwards, crashing into one of the shelves. Bottles toppled loudly, some rolling on the floor and others shattering, leaving Malik sitting in a pool of liquor and glass.
"Is that it?" Malik murmured eventually, picking up his head. His eyes were wide, a crazed smile still stretched across his face. Bakura flinched, then ran forward, grabbed his shirt, and punched him in the face. Malik laughed, and Bakura screamed, continuing to punch him until he felt Malik's blood on his hand. Disgusted at both of them, Bakura threw Malik to the glass-covered floor.
Malik lay breathing heavily for a long time. Bakura looked down at him pathetically, getting no pleasure out of his revenge.
"Why?" the thief asked eventually, when he could stand the silence no longer. "Your money was coming. Why did you beat Atem?"
"Did he tell you of our encounter, then?" Malik spat blood and wiped his mouth, then met Bakura's gaze.
"WHY?" Bakura roared angrily, pulling his foot back to kick Malik again. The Egyptian didn't flinch, but just grinned, and Bakura stopped.
Malik thought on it--or pretended to--for a moment. "I don't know," he replied finally, shrugging. "Maybe I wanted to make sure you came back."
"So you--!" Bakura started to yell, his foot connecting solidly with Malik's abdomen. "You beat him and tried to kill him for NO REASON?"
"Do you hate me?" Malik asked, seeming to not notice Bakura brutally beating him.
"Hell, yes!" Bakura snarled, holding back the desire to continuing beating the crap out of Malik so he could hear him speak.
"You want to kill me?" Malik pressed, wicked grin widening. Bakura was getting seriously disturbed, wondering both what the hell Malik was thinking by provoking him, and why he was enjoying Bakura's assualt.
"Like I wanted to 'kill' Atem?" Malik finished, and laughed. Bakura felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He tightened his fists, cornered, unable to strike again without being a hypocrite. Bakura was a thief, but he wasn't a liar--at least most of the time. There were SOME lines he would rather not cross.
"No!" The thief protested. "You did that for no reason!"
"I did it because I had a desire for him," Malik pulled himself up with the help of the bar, Bakura's revenge briefly put on hold.
"Don't you even try to tell me that you... love... him," Bakura spat the word out with difficulty, hesitant to use it even for himself, let alone Malik. "Not after all those things--"
"Did I say love?" Malik inched towards Bakura. "I don't know what it was; love, hate, lust... what is the difference?"
"There's a hell of a lot--!" Bakura started to yell, but cut off as Malik suddenly sprang forward, his face close enough to Bakura's that he could feel the other breathing. "...of difference..."
"You've already said you hate me," Malik purred, pressing his forehead to Bakura's. "Does it feel any different that how you feel with Atem?"
"Don't bring him into this..." Bakura protested ineffectually, losing his nerve as Malik continued his approach, their noses touching now.
"You love me, you hate me, it's all the same..." Malik whispered before claiming Bakura's mouth. He pulled away for an instant to hiss, "Love me."
Bakura pushed him off almost immediately. Malik, for the first time that night, showed no expression. No smug grin, no smirk, not even a frown. His mouth slid into an unexpressive line, as he watched the thief king.
"No," Bakura said clearly through gritted teeth. "I hate you." He turned around, leaving Malik standing amid broken glass and blood.
"You'll be back," Malik growled. Bakura smirked, the angry edge to Malik's voice almost making up for not beating him to a complete pulp.
"No." Bakura walked out of the still-open door into the silver moonlight. Malik heard the thief's "no" as a statement, and trembled with anger. Bakura said it as a wish; said it as a prayer that he had the strength to stay away, trembling with disgust at his almost.