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“Truth or dare?” Bakura slurred stretching out, the alcohol making his movements lazy and slow, but never at ease.
Atem looked over at Bakura’s question. It was strange, the way things had gone. Atem would have never believed that he and the thief would ever be able to be cordial let alone get along with one another. Still…it generally involved games that escalated into stupidity and vast amounts of whiskey. Something that most didn’t seem to understand about the ex-monarch is that he very much is a dark side. Bakura has seen it more than most in these weeks they’ve been playing games. He’s also learned quite a bit about Bakura. The pain almost seemed worth it to get a glimpse into his self-proclaimed arch enemy.
The games were always interesting to say the least. Neither one was someone who would back down. It was a matter of pride. As if either would show weakness to the enemy.
Atem stretched out, filling their glasses with another two healthy fingers of liquor each. “Truth.” Atem replied sloppily which garnered an eye roll from Bakura.
Sneering Bakura took a sip of his drink and licked over his teeth in thought. “Boring. Fine. Tell me about the thing that hurt you most in this life, Pharaoh.” His voice was sharp, eager and full of delight at the prospect.
Atem’s brow furrowed and he bit his lip. “Very well,” downing his whiskey he took in a deep breath. “The most painful day of my life was my mother dying.” His voice hitched a little, trembling with remembrance.
Smile slipping as Atem began his story, Bakura shifted. While he should have known that it was going to be overly dramatic, because Atem didn’t know how to be anything else. Bakura, for some reason, never had even thought about Atem’s mother being the answer spilt between them like the ex-Pharaoh’s own blood, thick and pungent.
“She died only about a moon cycle after my father.” Atem’s voice didn’t stray at the snarl that tore from Bakura at the mention of his father; He was trapped in a nightmare three thousand years old. “She died of grief, or so they told me. When I lost her I felt like the world stopped; it drained of color. Nothing was brighter than when she was alive.” Atem’s liquor ridden brain conjured up scene after scene of his mother and him to his dismay.
Against every fiber of his being Bakura’s chest tightened at Atem’s words. Loss of family was something he could relate to, and yet there was that burn of satisfaction as well that Atem and his murderous father had lost someone so precious to them. Served them right. They deserved to lose everything was the chant that screamed in Bakura’s head scratching at him until he hissed out at Atem’s answer.
Atem blinked, startling almost violently out of his memory, only to remember where he was and who he was with. Pink flooded his into the cheeks, staining them with his embarrassment, and he looked away. Clearing his throat he turned back to Bakura. “Truth or dare?” He asked still trying to shake the memory.
Bakura leaned back still thoughtful of this new piece of information Atem had provided him with. He stored it away carefully in case it was needed later as some weapon, and reached over to fill up his own glass. He looked to Atem’s empty lowball and reluctantly filled it as well.
Atem’s brow shot up, but he simply waited for Bakura’s answer trying to hide the surprise on his face that the thief would have done anything that might have resembled a kind gesture in his general direction.
“Dare me.” Bakura seethed glaring, daring Atem to say something, attempt to say something, look like he was about to say a fucking word. Atem, strangely, and unnatural to his very genetic makeup said nothing. Of course the devious smirk that tugged at Atem’s lips probably had warning bells gonging in Bakura’s head.
“Do something you know you’ll regret in the morning.” Smirking Atem sat back. He couldn’t wait to see what horribly idiotic idea THIS garnered.
If anyone had ever watched these games that ensued when these two got together they would likely need to call the police, or in this case an ambulance. Atem’s look turned from not-so-subtle smugness into confusion that melted into apprehension laced with curiosity as Bakura leaned in slowly. Atem’s head tilted to the side as he prepared to meet him in what was clearly going to be a kiss. Atem waited, that paused moment of perfect suspension before two people collide into each other for the first time.
That moment never came. Atem heard the crack of plaster and the litany of swears pouring from Bakura’s mouth in Egyptian. His eyes shot open, Bakura still far too close. Breath came through gritted teeth as Bakura pulled back a shaking clearly broken hand. Bakura’s hand had slammed directly into the wall next to Atem’s head.
“Are you out of your MIND?!” Atem shrieked standing up, movements shaky from not only Bakura’s stupidity, but the drinking. “I can’t HEAL that. You know I’m shit at healing!”
Bakura looked at the blood slowly trickling down his hand and began to titter a laugh. “Oh, stop worrying your highness. It’s just pain.” He licked at a drop of blood with a sharp smile. “I’ve had worse, and you did say something I’d regret in the morning.” He pointed out.
Atem shook his head as Bakura’s laugh and bit back something awful as he continued to look at the crushed knuckles of his hand.
“You’re going to have to help me splint it.” Bakura pointed out.
“I don’t know how.” Atem admitted irritation rising quickly that Bakura would have chosen THAT course of action of all things.
“Then you’ll have to learn, Pharaoh.” He said with a shrug. “Get your first aid kit,” Bakura urged “before I get blood on the carpet.” That should get him going.
Atem stumbled out of the room, not because of the threat on his carpet, but the way Bakura’s hand looked. Shaking, bleeding and angled funny, concern raced through him as he quickly retrieved the kit.
“Alright, you’re going to put the splint against my palm and then wrap the bandage around my arm three quarter of the way up my arm.” Bakura instructed as Atem fished through the kit for a splint and bandage.
Atem nodded doing as he was told.
“You-you thought I was going to kiss you.” Bakura said tripping over the words. “You were going to kiss me.” Bakura’s words held disbelief and a lacing of disgust at the thought.
Atem smiled a little. “Well, in my defense, it’s something you would have regretted in the morning.”
Bakura laughed a little and nodded. “If you say it’s true, it must be so.”
Atem nodded. “So, I just assumed. It would have less of a last effect than this.” He secured the bandage.
“I wonder.” Bakura muttered and looked at the bandage with approval. “Well done Atem.”
Atem started, but was smart enough not to say a damn thing about Bakura actually using his real name. Not a title sneered through his teeth thick with his hate. This, his name almost sounded easy, as if there wasn’t this vast chasm of hate and misunderstanding standing between them. Atem turned from the bathroom before Bakura could see his face and mock him for his reaction.
“I think you need more whiskey,” Atem said grinning over his shoulder.
Bakura caught Atem’s reaction, he simply said nothing still pondering Atem’s words. “More whiskey. Fuck yes.” That he would agree with. “You’re going to have a hard time topping THAT Pharaoh,” Bakura smirked smugly. “How will you compete with that dare?”
Atem’s grin mirrored Bakura’s own as he settled down. “We shall see Bakura. We shall see.”
Bakura laughed slogging back more alcohol. The night was young and Atem had yet to shed any blood, they would have to remedy that on the next turn. “Well then Morning and Evening Star.” Bakura cackled at Atem’s spitting reaction to the title. “Truth or dare?”