Drabblet

by Daimeryan Rei

Kaiba felt warm. Wasn't the airco on? The soft buzzing sound told him otherwise. He was in his own room; despite it being dark, he could make out the large painting on the opposite of the room. He hated that painting; why in the hell had he decided to hang it there?

He groaned. Something was weighing him down - or rather, someone. A pale arm was draped over his chest, the gesture almost possessive if Kaiba hadn't been so sure it was out of pure laziness. Bakura wasn't the one to be possessive; if he was nonetheless, Kaiba hadn't seen it in him. The thief had calmly walked into his life, and hadn't walked out yet - claiming that the Kaiba mansion had so many things left to steal, of course. Kaiba wasn't sure whether he himself prevented the other from leaving, or that Bakura really wanted to test every aspect of the alarm system.

Bakura's chin rested on his shoulder, white locks of hair tickling his nose. It would've been endearing, if Kaiba hadn't been aware of the slumbering danger. The other was never really asleep; he probably would know by now that Kaiba was awake and pondering - it was just the illusion of being asleep, being rested, feeling... safe. Was that it? After working alone for Gods knew how long, after being alone for millennia of time, was the only thing that Bakura was looking for.. warmth and shelter? Being held by someone else? It was Kaiba's arm, looped around his shoulder, fingers pressed against his skin...

The CEO shifted a little, and was confirmed in his thoughts when Bakura immediately curled his hand, fingers digging painfully in. He groaned again, but no other sound was made. Possessive, yes. The short stint of pain was telling him enough. It brought a grimace to his face. For whatever the thief had stolen, including that painting that he remembered hanging there to remind himself that Kaiba Corp. alarm systems were not that fail-proof, his heart wasn't still among it.

Because Kaiba Seto didn't do romance, and neither did Bakura. They were just together in loneliness.