Pharaoh and the Thief

Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Warning: Not much in this one.
Author’s Note: Sheesh, I almost forgot to put this up. I had this scene written before I even started the story. It’s been revised a bit since then though. I hope you like it. Things have been a bit hectic lately, and I have neglected this story a bit for a new one, but I started on Chapter 12 today, so hopefully I will get back in the groove of things, and maybe even have a new story up soon. Once again, thank you so much to everyone who takes the time to review. You guys really keep me going on this story. Enjoy!

Chapter 5

Bakura’s eyes fluttered open as the sunlight filtered through the curtains. He stretched and climbed out of bed, surprised at how much better he felt. It was amazing what a good night’s sleep and a proper meal could do, Bakura thought. Maybe I should invest in those more often.

Bakura paused in front of the mirror, inspecting his healing bruises. The ones on his face were faded to a dull green, but the ones on his stomach still had that sickly appearance to them. Very attractive, Bakura thought bitterly as he left the mirror to take in the morning view. His window faced the Pharaoh’s gardens and Bakura had to admit, they were beautiful. He stood there for awhile, taking in the view and enjoying the cool air from the gentle breeze playing across his skin.

Atem entered Bakura’s room with another tray of food. He was greeted with the sight of Bakura already out of bed, standing in front of the window. He was clothed only in his trousers and the bandage stretching across his injured back. The breeze coming through the window was whipping the thief’s white hair around his head in a rather enticing way.

Atem forgot the reason he was here, and stood transfixed, staring at the oblivious thief for several moments before catching himself. He walked over and put the tray on the table slightly more forceful than necessary to announce his arrival.

Bakura jumped and turned around, much the amusement of Atem.

“What are you grinning at?” Bakura asked looking slightly put off.

“That I caught the thief unaware,” Atem responded with a softer smile.

“Hmph,” Bakura grumbled, “Don’t expect it to happen again.”

Atem’s didn’t falter, used to the thief’s rough manner by now, “Oh, I don’t.”

Bakura scowled and turned back to the window. Atem walked up behind him and followed his gaze.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it,” Atem said. Bakura simply nodded in reply. He could feel Atem’s body right behind his, too close for comfort. And when he spoke, Bakura could feel his soft breath ruffling his hair. It took all of Bakura’s willpower not to move away.

“I can take you there when you’re healed, if you like,” Atem offered.

Bakura turned to look at him, his eyes unreadable. “Yeah, I would.”

The wind blew a wild strand of Bakura’s hair across his face and Atem instinctively reached to push it back.

Bakura flinched at the simple touch, averting his eyes from the other man. Atem quickly dropped his hand.

“Sorry,” he said, slightly hurt at Bakura’s reaction.

“It’s okay,” Bakura said quietly after a long pause, eyes still to the floor.

“I brought you breakfast,” Atem said, changing the subject.

Bakura looked up. “Great, I’m starving,” he said climbing over the bed to the tray on the other side.

He picked out an apple and began devouring it hungrily. Atem made to bring the chair over next to the bed, but was slightly surprised when Bakura scooted over to make room for him instead. Atem took the seat, perching on the end of the bed. Bakura offered him another apple from the tray, which Atem took with a grin.

He took a bite of the apple, but neglected it to watch Bakura eat instead. He’d finished off the apple, and was picking apart the loaf of bread. Every time Bakura ate, he acted like it would be his last meal. Atem wondered how often the young thief had gone without food. He was rather thin. Atem noticed how prominent his ribs were under the bruises.

“How are you feeling?” Atem asked him guardedly.

Bakura looked up from his meal. “Excellent. I can’t remember the last time I slept that well. Or ate that well for that matter.”

Atem looked at him oddly. “I mean your injuries,” he said.

“Oh,” Bakura responded, “Fine. They’re healing at least.”

Atem shook his head. “Good.” Their conversation died down and they both chewed slowly, trying to ignore the awkwardness growing between them.

“What’s that stuff you’ve been putting on my back?” Bakura inquired, breaking the uneasy silence. “I’ve never healed so fast before.”

Before? Atem was getting the nasty feeling Bakura was in these situations rather frequently. “It’s a salve the healers in the palace made,” Atem responded.

Bakura looked thoughtful. “I’ll have to nick some of that next time I get in a fight.”

“Is that often?” Atem asked before he could stop himself.

Bakura noted the condescending tone in the other man’s voice. “Occasionally,” Bakura said stiffly. “Sometimes it can’t be avoided.”

“Sorry,” Atem said quickly. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Bakura cocked his head and smirked at Atem, “Shouldn’t I be the one worried about being rude to you?”

Atem smiled. “I suppose that’s how it usually works.” He motioned to the white-haired man. “Come here, I’ll change your bandage.”

Much to Atem’s delight, Bakura didn’t hesitate this time, but turned his back to Atem and scooted closer, happily munching on another apple.

Atem peeled the old bandage off, seeing the scars crisscrossing Bakura’s back were nearly healed.

He washed them off, taking more time now that the thief seemed at ease. When he dipped his fingers in the salve, he allowed them to linger over Bakura’s skin, stroking softly. When he got to Bakura’s lower back, massaging the salve in gently, he felt him tense beneath his fingers. Atem paused for a second; afraid he was going to pull away. When he didn’t, Atem resumed massaging the salve into the cuts. Once he was done, he ran his finders lightly up Bakura’s side, feeling unmarred flesh shiver beneath his fingers.

Bakura sat very still, but didn’t pull away, so Atem got a little brave. He let his fingers move around Bakura’s body to trail over his taunt stomach. Bakura winced when they made contact with the large bruise from where the guard had kicked him. Atem stopped moving his fingers and laid his palm flat on Bakura’s stomach, over the bruise.

“Does it still hurt?” he whispered in Bakura’s ear.

“A bit,” Bakura responded, slightly breathless. Atem removed his hands regretfully. He quickly put the fresh bandage in place and sat back.

Bakura stayed where he was, not turning. Atem watched him, afraid he had gone too far.

“I should go,” Atem said finally, standing up to leave.

Bakura was having an internal conflict. Even though the other man made him extremely uncomfortable with his inquisitiveness and lingering touches, he almost didn’t mind. It was kind of nice actually, having someone who cared, Bakura thought, then cringed inwardly at the last word. Cared? No one cared for him. Why would Atem? Everyone who had cared died so long ago. He was nothing but a criminal in this man’s eyes, he reminded himself bitterly. But then, why was he so kind? Bakura was confused. He knew he should just ignore Atem, carry out his mission in this godforsaken city, and then leave and never look back. But a part of him didn’t want to. A part of him almost wanted to forget his whole reason here. His stomach jumped pleasantly every time Atem touched him, and a part of Bakura liked that.

Bakura shook his shaggy head to banish the thoughts. “You don’t have to go,” he said.

Atem paused halfway to the door. “Really?” he asked hopefully.

Bakura smiled, small and soft, “I mean, if you don’t have other things to do. I’m not really tired and there isn’t much to do.” And I want you to touch me like that again.

“There’s nothing I need to do that can’t wait,” Atem responded and joined Bakura once more on the bed.

Bakura smiled at him again. That soft small smile that looked strange and angelic on him at the same time.