Chapter Text
Bakura blinked to consciousness, a confusing mixture of pain and pleasantness around him. His arm and face hurt, a slight throb through most of it but a few areas of cold rawness littering his lip and brow.
The most enticingly sweet smell made him look down at a large slab of pancakes with almost more whipped topping than pancake and a mixed berry glaze richly coloring the desert. He noticed as he looked down that he was starving and that another plate was set up across from him with noticeably no cream and only a few pieces of fresh fruit.
The hazy confusion of having been blacked out and being in a completely new place in the middle of doing something was familiar, and Bakura faintly wished he'd awoken in bed so at least it would just feel like waking from a dream.
"Why…" He couldn't finish his question. He didn't know what he was most confused about. Why was he in the sunroom with a stack of pancakes. Why did his face feel like he wiped out bicycling? He looked to Kaiba, squinting eyes and crinkled brow filling in more than words ever could.
Kaiba looked to the nearest servant and motioned deftly for his service. With a dry, explanatory voice, Kaiba said," The thief refused to take more painkillers even though I assured him they would take an hour to come into effect. I'm sorry, I tried my best to talk him into it. He suggested you'd feel better if you at least woke up to desert."
Bakura accepted two pills from the butler, his mind still reeling. Swallowing them down with apple juice before him, Bakura stared back at his plate, still trying to piece together his situation.
It was a lovely set up, with a gorgeous glass table arranged for kings in the middle of his favorite room. The many flowering plants that had been specially picked out to match style and scent only enhanced the appetizing food in front of him. It was all too much though, and Kaiba caught on quickly.
"This must be rather odd," he offered apologetically.
Bakura shook his head, but the stiffness in his neck stopped him unnaturally early. He rubbed at his neck half heartedly, thinking about what he wanted to say before he said it. "It's far better than all the times before, but coming to like this is still odd. I don't know how long I've been out, or what I've been doing. Why I'm here. I mean, you've told me a little, but… It's just. I don't know if I can get used to this. I didn't realize how exhausted I was, that I was letting my soul go dark. Recently, when I have, I've woken up like from sleep, and I think that's easier."
Kaiba nodded, guiltily thinking he could have done a better job trying to get the thief to cooperate with him or make waking less jarring at least.
"B-but this is really nice," Bakura eagerly tagged on, afraid of sounding ungrateful.
Kaiba shook his head dismissively, not wanting Bakura to force out praise. He admittedly hadn't known the best course of action, making course adjustments as new problems popped up here and there. He'd never intended for Bakura to wake up confused and in pain directly because of his involvement. He didn't know what to say though, how to make this better.
Casting his eyes down at the gorgeous plate of pancakes, Bakura also wondered if he should try and say something to help. Honestly, he wasn't upset or anything, just ready to be done with the pain that was seeping from his arm and face. And joints. Actually, he was starting to think he really did wipe out bicycling. He felt all the stiff soreness of taking an impact.
He quietly gave thanks, then grabbed his utensils and began to cut a few pieces free so he could start eating his consolation dessert. Bakura remained awkwardly quiet, still thinking how he could phrase assurance that everything was alright. He was the one to put his soul under, even if it was by mistake, so he couldn't be mad that he was disoriented now. It would have been nice if the thief would have taken their prescribed medicine, but he could discuss that with him later. Maybe they could update the rules.
Standing so he could lean across the table, Kaiba reached for Bakura's hands and quickly began," Let me, your arm has to be quite sore-"
Bakura was insisting that he was really fine as he raised his hands in a gesture of "no worries", when he accidently bumped arms with Kaiba. He noticed the flash of discomfort in the other's eyes. It edged on almost painful.
There was no way his gentle nudge to Kaiba should have hurt him so. With curious eyes, he set his silverware down and asked," What's wrong with your arm?" He was supposed to be the injured one here.
"Nothing," Kaiba said calmly, but Bakura saw how his eyes flickered down tensely.
Bakura reached forward slowly, allowing plenty of time for Kaiba to pull away if he chose, then undid the cuff's buttons and pushed the sleeve back to reveal bands of bruising. They weren't there before his slumber, Bakura was certain of it. He'd held Kaiba's arm for support and Kaiba hadn't batted an eyelash.
Bakura made eye contact, his brow raising with concern and a silent plea for an explanation. When Kaiba said nothing, Bakura swallowed hard and placed his good hand over the mark, curling his fingers gently over the bands of reddish purple. It was a perfect match.
Bakura recoiled like he'd been burned, immediately covering a gasp and looking away like he could wish the reveal out of existence. "He hurt you, didn't he?" he cried as he looked back. "He's hurting people, he's using me to hurt people again!"
"He was drugged," Kaiba said softly, almost defending the thief.
"That's no excuse."
Kaiba tried again to downplay it. "It's a long story."
"What happened?" Bakura held a strong gaze on Kaiba, waiting expectantly for the other to comply. He needed an explanation. He would pry it out of one of them.
Scowling as he fixed his sleeve, Kaiba said," We got into a fight." His gaze softened and he tagged on," We already had your arm checked out, and it's fine. Your lip needed two stitches though." The same sore that Bakura had bitten into his lip the day of the accident had been healing fairly well until it met marble with force.
Bakura subconsciously reached up to the injury, lightly pressing his fingers to the sticky wound. Woah, he'd have to check that out. It had to look cool from the brief impression he got with cursory fingers. "Why did you get in a fist fight with the thief?"
Kaiba sat back down and crossed his arms. It was unpleasant to be grilled, but he couldn't say he blamed Bakura one bit. One had to have a lot of questions in his situation. "We had a disagreement about personal space," he answered.
With a comically serious tone, Kaiba also noted," The thief shouldn't be in control while you're on opioids. Or drunk. Actually, I think we should rule out all depressants as well."
Bakura had obviously missed quite a bit. Half-heartedly returning to his pancakes, or more accurately, stabbing one piece and aimlessly collecting the berry syrup with it but never taking a bite, Bakura sighed and said," Honestly, maybe it's best I don't know everything. Filling in the blank spots always just ends up in everyone involved getting upset." He didn't want to hear about what kind of trespasses against each other they'd committed. He was tired, and he just wanted some peace to set in.
Kaiba still looked uncomfortable, shifting in his seat a little in a manner unlike his typical professional self. Bakura may have decided not to be filled in, but Kaiba still felt there was some basic information he should know. "I punched you in the jaw," he admitted.
Bakura looked up coldly. It didn't matter how friendly the thief became, Bakura would always be sensitive to being confused with the thief in any sense. "I wasn't present. He's not me."
Internally scolding himself for making such a basic slip-up when they'd worked on the language around Bakura and the thief months ago, Kaiba apologized softly.
Bakura considered for half a second of getting up and leaving. He needed to talk to the thief, and he was only getting more upset as he went along with this forced setup of nicety. The meal and the surroundings were beautiful, but they couldn't mask his confusion or pain, and they could keep every sentence they exchanged from making things worse as he got more and more concerned. He knew he could leave at anytime he wanted, but also, he couldn't. It would be too hard for him to do that to Kaiba, especially with how Kaiba cutting him out still hurt him and echoed in his mind.
"I thought you guys were getting along now," Bakura said after a long silence. The thief returning was like introducing a new pet to the household.
"He knows how to get along with others just about as well as he knows Greek." Kaiba paused and added," Admittedly, my Greek isn't very great either, nor is… Well, our pancakes are getting cold."
Bakura smiled ruefully, eyebrows drawn up in sad amusement. They all had some work ahead of them, but they were trying their best. Taking another bite of his food, now noticing just how much it felt like he was being stabbed in the lip since the stitches had been pointed out, Bakura tried to focus on the sweetness and ignore the many unpleasantries his life kept offering.