Author's Note: Series of drabbles that I may or may not frequently update. Written simply because I enjoy writing them. Each one will be based off of a different crime, and if you have any ideas feel free to share them. It is very possible that the rating will increase. Who knows? Title blantantly stolen from the AFI song Beautiful Thieves. Go listen and enjoy.
Rating: T.
Pairing(s): Bakura/Malik (thiefshipping), and others if I decide that I feel like.
Warnings: Cursing, smoking, drugs, probable sex, law breaking, and many more.

arson
The crime of maliciously, voluntarily, and willfully setting fire to the building, buildings, or other property of another or of burning one's own property for an improper purpose, as to collect insurance.

The sky was raining reds and oranges and yellows and crimsons and a rainbow of other soft, warm colors. The gentleness of the bright colors coupled with the radiating heat provided a strangely calming effect for the tan boy who was sitting leisurely on his motorcycle. Said vehicle was currently parked nearby to a local church. Said religious establishment was currently engulfed in flames.

The Spirit of the Ring was never very fond of any sort of God, and he was horrendously fond of going out of his way to cause problems; so, naturally, when Malik had suggested that the two go out and do something, criminal intent was fresh on the Spirit's mind.

And really, the church was just so bloody quaint. It was crying out for some gasoline and a match.

And Bakura, being the gentleman that he is, could never simply ignore such cries.

"We should probably go," The blonde told his partner-in-crime flatly as the ashen-haired, ash-covered thief emerged from the area of the flaming building. Smoke clung to his pale form and fog held on tightly to his demonic aura. The clouds of blackness surrounding the Spirit did nothing if not amplify his ghostly air. The smog stuck to him like dirty, little, lost souls. Malik frowned slightly at these thoughts, but did nothing else. "The police are going to show up soon enough."

"Hn. I suppose you're right," The wraithlike being snarled in his ever-so-harsh British accent. He gracefully made his way towards the tan boy and situated himself on the blonde's vehicle. "Let's get out of here."

Malik nodded, hooking his leg over the other side of his motorcycle, so as to straddle it, and ignited the machine. It let out a roar as its owner let out a sigh. "Honestly, Spirit," He glowered. "Can't we ever do anything that doesn't require running from authorities?"

Bakura said nothing. He simply smirked and hooked his pale arms around his partner's waist as the pair swiftly sped away from the scene of the crime.