Disclaimer: Dangerously close to crack, like, 'feet dangling over the edge' kind of close. Also, please beware of shifts in time.

And many thanks to Kuvera's awesome beta work. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Beach Day

Just under an inch.

Yugi was going to find out sooner or later, and, at this point, sooner was coming too soon. After measuring and re-measuring in a borderline O.C.D. manner, Atem withdrew the ruler tenting his upper lip, cleaned off the saliva with the sleeve of his shirt, and carefully replaced the device exactly where he found it in Yugi's desk drawer. It was not an illusion; his canines were getting longer. Although it'd only been about two weeks since the life-suffocating event, Atem's self-consciousness shot up exponentially. For one, the millimetres his teeth slowly acquired throughout the week actually caught his notice. As soon as these millimetres turned to centimetres, the mounting turmoil that accompanied every bit of extra calcium told him to switch to a different measuring system in order to ease the apparent severity of the situation. So now, instead of 2.45 centimetres, it was "just under an inch." Which helped a little, less than he convinced himself it would, but a little.

Mou hitori no boku, are you almost finished yet?"

But that was merely his preoccupation for the past half hour. His skin condition required a great deal more tact in order to conceal. He didn't know whether it was his inability to venture into the sun (and by this, it was more like hiding from Priest Seto after he'd had a night of insomnia) or due to some sort of supernatural force. Considering that it had only been two weeks, and two weeks marked by winter's cloudy overcast for that matter, he figured it was the latter. His secret desire to achieve the perfect, toasty brown of his past self had become a fleeting dream as, day by day, the nearly translucent whiteness crept upon him like bleach on a grape juice stain. The veins on his hands and arms were more noticeable than Priest Seto's "secret" love for pickled prunes, and he discovered that he actually had freckles on his upper back. He shaved more often as well, under the impression that fairer skin meant more visible auxiliary hair.

"N-not yet!"

"Why? What's taking you so long?"

Unsure of where the idea came from, but glad to have thought of it, Atem resorted to bronzer. Realistically, he only had to use it in places that weren't covered by clothing and, at first, that was easy. Winter was barely behind him, which meant that he bundled up like crazy, just like everyone else. Night time was a bit more of a challenge because he usually crawled into bed beside Yugi in nothing but a pair of boxers. Changing his nightly attire would have elicited questions (as well as protests) from his aibou and Atem couldn't devise a believable excuse for doing so.

Now the amount of bronzer he had to slop on was directly proportional to paleness degree of this skin. Basically, he had to put on more and more each passing day. The first two visits to the drug store were normal enough, but questions from employees arose by the third visit. After a feeble explanation regarding a massive art project that involved "unconventional mediums" and what looked like acceptance of this story in the expressions of these apathetic workers, Atem decided to divide his bronzer supply between three different vendors. Unfortunately, Domino wasn't the biggest city on the map and numbers two and three involved a bit of patience with busses and transfers. The plus side to this experience was probably his heightened sense of punctuality after his prolonged indecision on whether to choose "Dark 3 or Dark 4" caused him to miss his bus. Luckily, he already had an excuse in place on his walk home when he bumped into Jou's little sister with three bags of "Dark 3.5" bronzer.

"Mou hitori no boku…"

"Hmm?"

"What's that smell?"

The first night after this adventure was another lesson learned. Atem had shortly slid one leg into bed when a whiff of his thigh against Yugi's face caught the younger teen's attention. In the dark, Yugi couldn't see the panic in his expression as his nose grazed over his arm, then his leg, noting an unmistakable difference between the two.

"Dry skin, I used some of your mother's lotion. That's all."

"Hmm, okay."

Waiting for Yugi to fall asleep had been excruciating. When the rhythmic inhales and exhales of his poor unknowing other was in place, Atem slowly peeled himself from the warmth and snuck to his hiding spot. By flashlight, he mentally smacked himself when he saw the minuscule "apricot scented" label from bag two that he swore wasn't among all the "unscented" look-a-likes when he bought them.

"Hurry up, we're going to be late!"

"I know!"

That was merely one of the many times Atem had to sneak around at night. A vampire, even a "vegetarian" vampire like himself, had to eat. Untangling himself from Yugi in the wee hours of the morning without his partner knowing was a feat for gods and kings. It took about an hour but he managed to inch out of bed and slide a log-shaped pillow into Yugi's flaccid arms at the same time. With some practice, groping around in the dark became a less painful experience, especially when Atem remembered to pick up all of Yugi's action figures before bed. Actually, his pride was affected more than anything. In two weeks, he'd done more sneaking around than he'd ever done in the previous life, the time in the puzzle and his pre-vampire condition combined. If he ever needed to venture out at night as pharaoh (which rarely happened anyways), he had more than enough guards surrounding him to announce to anyone within earshot that "Great Egypt" was approaching. This foreign behaviour was more like the actions of a…

"Tomb Robber, what are you doing here?"

"Eh? Pharaoh"

"I said, what are you doing here?"

"Enjoying the night air. I could ask you the same thing, you know."

"Were you going through our garbage?"

"You really don't think too highly of me, do you? You just so happened to catch me standing in this very spot is all. One doesn't go from stealing fine jewellery to picking other people's garbage no matter what century one is in. Of course, I'm speaking for myself only, what you do is your business."

Bakura certainly knew how to tamper with Atem's temper gauge. He'd wanted to get his ugly business done and over with as efficiently as possible but it wasn't to happen that night. Although it was dark, Atem knew Bakura's profession awarded him certain visual advantages that he didn't have. In haste, he shoved a protesting squirrel behind his back and slyly nudged the body of a chipmunk into a hole behind his leg, maintaining the calmest of expression throughout the process.

"So you admit to thievery?"

"Since when have I been ashamed of it?"

"And you are targeting my house?"

"Old habits die hard, pharaoh. But like I said before, you just so happened to catch me here, it's all circumstantial."

It would have been easier to devise a come-back if Atem could have seen Bakura's face. But at that moment, he was preoccupied with the struggling creature behind his back. His stern expression was interrupted by bouts of eye and lip twitching as the squirrel painfully clawed and scratched at his hand. His arm jerked a couple times, something he (in his paranoia) was sure Bakura noticed

"Doing a little… exterminating, pharaoh?"

"W-what?"

Bakura, while twirling a gold earring that looked like one of Anzu's, proceeded to accuse him of zoosadism. Atem was shocked, offended and highly relieved all in one neatly rolled-up package. With a thumb clamped down on the rodent's head, he'd avidly protested against this "sick" accusation and assured Bakura that he, in no way, took pleasure from torturing small animals. In response, Bakura happily pointed out the tiny, unmarked grave at the former pharaoh's feet and the faint but unceasing sound of a distressed and somewhat asphyxiated squirrel. The more disturbing part of this accusation was the fact that Bakura claimed he wasn't at all surprised by this behaviour. He explained to the vexed former pharaoh that he'd always known Atem had some sort of nasty streak in him and that it would manifest itself no matter how much "holier-than-thou" he thought himself to be. When Atem shot back, in rather vulgar terms, that he was nothing like Bakura or Malik's dark side, Bakura simply ignored the remark and mused about the implications of this nightly ritual.

"You have the makings of a psychopath, a closet psychopath if we factor in the secrecy of it all…but it's not like the difference matters anyways."

It was at that point, when Atem wanted nothing more than to rip the former tomb robber a new one, that the desperate squirrel bit him hard enough for his hand to snap open and allow it to make its harrowing escape. Frozen in the vice grip of his guilt, Atem saw the creature bound towards Bakura in a blur, topple the garbage cans that separated them and leap over the mound of white hair before disappearing into the darkness. While the former tomb robber had his laugh, Atem unconsciously stomped on the mound of dirt concealing his misdeeds, hoping to both physically and metaphorically bury his secret ever deeper.

With the garbage cans on their side and spilling their innards, Atem saw the big sack at Bakura's feet. The former tomb robber certainly wasn't one to change his ways. Despite the heightened acuity of the twenty-first century security systems, the eccentric man had the audacity to prance around with a huge sack without any reservations. Between Bakura's tell-tale bag of goodies and Atem's less-than-innocent handling of little animals, blackmail was the natural course of action. The advantage, of course, fell on the man who didn't give a damn. So, after a midnight staring contest, Bakura's indecision as to whether Atem's behaviour would lead to sexual deviance or major arson, biting comments from both sides, and attempts to duke this out in the shadow realm, Atem conceded. In his defeat, he went to bed hungry, unable to get the other man's railings out of his mind as his stomach growled away.

"Mou hitori no boku!"

"I said, I know!

"I'm coming up there!"

"That's not necessary!"

"You're acting really weird, other me!"

"Just…give me another five minutes."

On the subject of being screwed over, the last person Atem ever thought would "turn him" was Mokuba Kaiba. It was neither a prolonged nor spectacular event, but it had obviously been life-altering. Atem had been taking out the garbage for Grandpa and Yugi when, out of nowhere, a small boy jumped him and proceeded with his unholy actions. There was the token struggle with its muffled screams and grunts, the horrified realisation that the pre-teen possessed an unnatural strength and vigour, the wide-eyed terror as a pair of elongated canines closed in on his neck and, finally, the inevitable 'disoriented-stumbling-in-the-darkness-with-hand-on-wound-in-distress-and-fear-as-his-victimizer-hissed-and-disappeared-into-the-night'. It wasn't hot or sexy (especially since it involved Mokuba), and he wasn't masosadistic enough to be aroused by the pain. His first thought, as he pried through a nearby bush for something to staunch the bleeding, was whether or not it would infect. This idea quickly led to the contemplation of a rabies shot, which then opened up a world of other possible shots he believed he may have needed. With too many possible diseases to count and not a clue as to where he could even begin dealing with them, Atem chose to do nothing at all.

So, with a make-shift bandage of leaves pressed to his neck, Atem composed himself and made a bee-line for their bedroom. Passing through the front door was the easy part. But dodging Yugi's mother, grandpa, and Yugi himself had taken a bit more agility.

"Oh my gosh, what happened to you?"

"Nothing."

"What's wrong with your neck?"

"Bug bite."

"O-other me?"

"Goodnight aibou, see you in the morning."

"But we sleep in the same room!"

Slamming the bedroom door in his beloved's face had proven to be of greater consequence than the horrendous damage to his internal carotid artery. After finding a place to stash the soiled leaves, he checked his condition in Yugi's full-length mirror, expecting the worst. For reasons that could have only been explained by the supernatural, most of the damage had already repaired itself, leaving the same amount of dried blood that would have come from a paper cut. Of course, if this had been any ordinary wound, he would have been dead before making it back to the front steps of the game shop. Too relieved to consider this notion, Atem dumped an excessive amount of rubbing alcohol on the bite marks for good measure. Unfortunately, he'd only had a precious few seconds when a soft knock on the door and concerned, mixed with hurt, words filtered their way into their shared room. Fumbling with a choker in one hand and taking his sweet time to open the door with the other, he was met with the biggest, most watery pair of purple eyes he'd ever seen. Since the amount of time it took to get back into the house, as well as the manner in which he did so, was impossible to overlook, Atem was forced to assemble his lies around these facts.

"The garbage can fell over and you got garbage juice… on your neck?"

Convincing Yugi that this highly improbable story (with all its plotholes) was the truth was one of the most difficult things he thought he'd ever do. It wasn't until a few days later, when Yugi wanted to kiss him after scarfing down a whole basket of garlic bread, that this notion was challenged. With the help of some gentle, physical assurance, off-topic distractions, and soothing ocean sounds from Yugi's mechanical sheep, Atem both achieved his goal and got Yugi to fall asleep in one shot.

Although lying to his beloved added to his turmoil, Atem needed time to adjust to his new predicament. Evidence showed that this was nowhere near a normal occurrence and the same evidence convinced him it was a bad idea to tell anyone. Not one to discard supernatural explanations (being an x-thousand-year-old pharaoh and all), he resorted to mythology. It took about five seconds to figure out what he was. Consequently, he, with great reluctance, found himself in front of the mirror again, looking for signs of "change." Despite finding none, his panic levels steadily rose since his realisation. In desperate need to find out more, he ripped as many vampire-centred books from Yugi's bookshelf as he could (which was a lot, making him wonder if these were merely thoughtless birthday gifts or the result of a real interest in the part of his aibou). Even with six different books laid out on the ground before him and careful analysis of each one, he learned surprisingly little. The "literature" was contradictory and Atem didn't know whether the correct prototype of this being lay in Dracula from the 1897 novel, Nosferatu from a 1922 movie, Mona from the Mona the Vampire T.V. show, Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer series or Edward Cullen from the Twilight tetralogy. None was remotely appealing and he wasn't sure whether he'd rather have pointy ears and a greased back mullet or look like a drug addict on rehab.

At the time, he hadn't realised it, but the life of a vampire would prove to be especially problematic for him. In many ways, a vampire is the opposite of a pharaoh and, as the days passed by and the results of his new condition surfaced, the reality of his predicament was undeniable. The former pharaoh was paranoid about his body. His skin tone approached levels of albinism, he scrambled around in the dark (on his hands and knees, no less) for food, his confidence level took an annoying plunge, and he couldn't dare show his pasty arse to Ra for fear of sizzling up and melting into a puddle of royal goo (or sparkle, but he wasn't sure whether this meant sparkling was a precursor to melting, or if he'd sparkle while he melted, or if it was the resulting puddle that sparkled, but there was no doubt that a certain variety of melting was involved). If he was around, Priest Seto would be highly amused.

"You already said that ten minutes ago!"

"I mean it this time."

Atem tried turning into a bat. In his mind, this was no less valid than anything else mentioned in the vampire-related literature. As a child, he's always wanted to fly. However, since the technology in Ancient Egypt wasn't nearly advanced enough to award this privilege, the closest thing he got to flying was coercing servants like Teana to run around the court while he rode on their shoulders and flapped his arms in the air. The problem was how to turn into a bat. There weren't any instructions on how to do this and he could confidently claim this fact because he'd actually tried looking. Was he supposed to think batty thoughts? Close his eyes and stick out his arms? Or jump off some sort of height in hopes that, on the way down, he'd slip into the smooth transformation? Assuring that the door to their bedroom was locked, Atem tried all three. The first two were completely fruitless. He didn't know what "batty" thoughts were supposed to be and holding out his arms with his eyes closed didn't exactly give him the same motivation it did when he was a toddler. His eyes briefly settled on the window for the third option before wisely deciding to try for the bed first. While he wasn't completely convinced this would work in the first place, he couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed when his socked feet landed hard on the ground. Not one to give up easily, he repeated this action several more times, finding himself unconsciously flinging out his arms for an added aerial effect. From downstairs, it sounded like they'd suddenly acquired a bowling alley, which, in some circumstances, wasn't altogether a bad thing. However, Yugi was knocking at the door in no time and Atem, who was busy considering whether or not he should take off the Puzzle in case it made him slam into the ground after transforming, had to cut his experimentation short.

"I am very, very worried about you, mou hitori no boku."

"Why?"

"You've been so, so secretive lately. Is something wrong?"

"No."

"I don't believe that."

"Oh."

"Please tell me what's wrong..."

"I have been feeling rather… different as of late."

"Like… in what sense?"

"Not as I normally am, I suppose."

"That doesn't help."

"Perhaps it's the weather, you know what they say about the weather…"

"Well, it's been pretty gloomy these days. Gloomier than normal I guess. Must be tougher for you since you're so used to the sun and all."

"Yes."

"I'm so sorry, mou hitori no boku. I wish I knew how to make you feel better."

"I…can manage."

"Oh I know! How about all of us head down to the beach next Sunday? The weather forecast says it's going to be awesome out!"

"I would rather not - "

"I'll go call up everyone right now. We haven't been to the beach in ages, this is going to be great!"

And thus, without knowing it, Yugi handed Atem his first, non card-game/non-shadow realm/non-duel monster-related, death sentence. The suggestion cut through him like the sound of Priest Seto's nails scraping across the stone walls. His mind blanked out as the full implications of this proposition seeped in and he was at a complete loss for coherent words. As time ticked away toward his looming demise, Atem's resourceful mind worked at full capacity to devise an excuse for avoiding the deadly event. He began by attempting to convince Yugi to do something else instead. However, neither the park, the amusement park, the water park, the 'fun' park, mini gulfing, regular gulfing, scooter racing nor picnicking under the bright, bright sun proved to be a better replacement and his ideas for lazer tag, the arcade, indoor duelling, or curling up with a good book under a blanket with a flashlight fell on deaf ears. Following this failure, he tried inducing sickness. However, despite stepping outside in the middle of the night with just enough clothing to hide his shame, ingesting various amounts of bleach, purposely diving into areas of high smoke content, standing in front of the microwave for extended periods of time and painfully consuming Jounouchi's special eight bean medley surprise, his body proved to be inconveniently resilient.

"I don't care, I'm coming up there!"

He'd resigned himself to the seven stages of grief and got to stage four (depression, reflection and loneliness) at a faster-than-normal rate when a third option came to mind. It was a long shot and it didn't guarantee his livelihood but he went for it anyways.

He started off by getting himself a hat. He briefly considered getting a mini one should be turn into a bat. But that idea was quickly discarded. Now, for someone who's cranial "endowments" prevented him from donning the Double Crown of Egypt (and force him to settle for a shotty tiara with the Eye of Horus slapped on it at the last second), this was less of an errand as it was a quest. And he, being one to view the wine goblet as half-full, saw the resulting cowboy hat as a success rather than a failure. Continuing on this "success," he set his sights on appropriate Ra-repelling attire. This was significantly easier than the hat issue and he saw his life preserver in a lead vest (which he had to cleverly coerce from a lab technician at the Domino hospital) and a white, extra-extra large, woolly coat (which he'd strategically chosen because it covered most of his legs as well). This gear was topped off with a mail-ordered, shiny new pair of size six men's steel toed shoes.

"SPF-70, what does that mean?"

"Well, SPF means 'sun protection factor.' The 70 means that your skin will not burn unless it is exposed to 70 times the amount of solar energy that would normally cause it to burn."

"I see. And if I am seeking protection from something worse than sunburn, which type of sunscreen should I use?"

"Well, the SPF-70 kind is the strongest we have. What sort of protection are you looking for?"

"Well, what other skin conditions have people come to complain to you about?"

"Er… there are a lot out there and I'm not a physician. I just sell this stuff. Just to be on the safe side, maybe you should go to your doctor and get some prescription medication instead."

"I'm afraid that's not one of my options. Are you aware of any vendors who sell sunscreen with a higher sun protection factor?"

"70 is the strongest, sir. What kind of strength are you looking for?"

"Somewhere along the lines of 700 to 800 hundred perhaps. If that is possible, of course."

"Is that some kind of joke, sir?"

"Of course not."

"No, seriously."

"I'm very serious."

"Look, I don't have time for this stuff. Either buy the SPF 70 or kindly leave."

Atem reluctantly bought the SPF-70 and threw in a pair of winter gloves for extra protection. He also made a mental note to return in order to fill out a customer satisfaction form voicing his great dissatisfaction. He was calmed by the fact that he'd completed his preparations, but was also in deep turmoil should this preparation prove to be an utter failure. Despite it all, he somehow wished that Providence would swoop in and save him in the last second.

Which brings events to the present.

"Seriously, mou hitori no boku, it shouldn't be taking you this long – what in the world?"

Yugi flung open the door and stopped short at the sight of his inappropriately dressed other self. Startled, Atem, who'd had his face pressed against the full-length mirror, whipped around and smiled weakly at Yugi's horrified expression.

After taking a few seconds to register the situation in front of him, Yugi marched up to Atem and proceeded to de-clothe him. Ignoring Atem's struggles, he yanked off the hat and threw it on the bed, following the article with the heavy coat, gloves and (after pausing for a moment to stare and poke at the lead vest) the lead vest as well. "What are you doing, other me?"

Atem, who was very surprised at Yugi's insistence and his own inability to stop this non-consensual stripping, could hardly give an adequate answer, "I was getting dressed?"

"Like this?" Yugi pointed to the medley of incongruent vestments on the bed, "You know what the beach is and you know how you're supposed to dress for it. You didn't get dumped here from Ancient Egypt just yesterday, you know."

"Yes but - "

"And SPF-70?" Yugi picked up the near-empty bottle and held it up to his other, "You're Egyptian! And even if you needed this, you would have used it when we went to visit Ishizu and her family in Egypt last summer."

"I was just trying to be careful."

"Are you serious?" Yugi was on the verge of grabbing Atem by the collar and shaking him without actually trying to yield any benefits, "You've been weird for awhile now, but this," He wagged finger up and down Atem's body, "This really does it."

"I… know."

"You know?"

"I know."

Yugi studied Atem's downcast, guilt-ridden face. He'd kept the matter somewhat undercover for the past two weeks hoping whatever condition the former pharaoh happened to be inflicted with would go away. He tried figuring out what was wrong without actually asking his other self, but the combination of oddities didn't seem to fit together. This, for one, was a great example. Atem blinked in surprise as the previously-outraged Yugi gently took his hand.

"Please tell me what's wrong." Yugi said softly, running his thumb over Atem's (bronzed) fingers.

Atem swallowed, attempting to meet Yugi's eyes but only managing a fleeting glance, "I don't know."

"Well, maybe we can work this out together." Yugi pushed him towards the bed, sitting him down in a fatherly manner and Atem conceded, unsure of anything better to do. He kept their hands connected and Atem felt that, wherever this was going, he wasn't going to like it, "How have you been feeling lately? Depressed? Restless? Homesick? It's okay to be homesick, other me. I'll understand if you tell me that."

"Perhaps I've been a bit depressed and restless as of late." The former pharaoh said carefully, well aware that he was straddling the line between truth and lie.

"Depressed about what exactly?" Yugi gripped his limp hand tighter and it felt like the gesture suddenly activated his turmoil button.

Atem aimed for a deliberately ambiguous answer, "Everything and nothing."

"That sounds terrible!"

"It…does?"

"Yes!" Yugi had both hands on him now and was inching ever closer, as if trying to pry into his other's mind. Despite the apparent seriousness of the situation, the most salient thing on Atem's mind at the moment was whether or not Yugi noticed how many layers of sunscreen he had on is face. "Is it… is it because you couldn't, you know, rest in the afterlife?"

"What?" Atem's arm jerked and Yugi glanced at it for a moment before resuming his soul-penetrating stare, "Of course not! I chose to stay by my own will and this is the life I want."

"Really?" Atem bit his lip as Yugi started rubbing his fingers a little too hard, stripping some bronzer off along with it, "I mean, no one really knows what happens to a soul that just wanders around the Earth outside his own time. Maybe there are serious consequences we don't know of."

His forefinger was definitely whiter than the rest of his hand, and he tried to keep this fact under the radar by not looking at it, but Yugi just wouldn't stop. "You're right, but we'll never know."

"And what if, what if we angered the gods or nature or something by messing with life and death," It was almost like Yugi's hand had a life of its own because, without Yugi actually paying attention to what he was doing, the teen finished polishing off one finger and started working on the next, "And we're, or, you are being punished for it?"

Atem fought every urge to jerk his hand away as Yugi preceded to de-bronze it, "And…how…" He mentally told himself to stay calm and draw attention away from his hand, "…uh, do you think...uh, I'm being punished, exactly?"

"See, that's what I'm worried about," The inside of Yugi's thumb was coated with a thick layer of bronzer and Atem could not, for the life of him, figure out why Yugi hadn't noticed, "This is going to sound weird and I really don't want to say it but, I think you have some sort of psychological disorder."

"Uh huh." There was two full fingers worth of bronzer smeared all over Yugi's thumb and, at this point, only a blind person wouldn't notice. "Such as?"

"I don't know, other me," Yugi sighed and, to Atem's dismay, glanced downwards. But before Yugi could notice the unusual situation down south, Atem whipped his other hand up and lifted Yugi's chin, forcing his aibou to meet his gaze.

"Please, go on."

"Oh, uh, okay," Yugi blushed a bit at the sensual touch and, for a moment, forgot what he was talking about. The rubbing, however, didn't stop and Atem did his best to maintain a connection between their eyes, "Well, you seem kind of paranoid, for one."

"Right." Yugi was onto the third finger now.

"Like that time we walked by the neighbour's house. You know, the one with the white picket fence?" Yugi could open a bronzer shop with the amount on his thumb alone, "You got all jittery and walked by it really fast, like you were scared of it or something."

"Uh-huh."

"And when we went to the jewellery store to get mom's wedding ring resized," And the bronzer shop just outsourced to his pant leg, "You took one look at the silver necklaces and ran away like you had to throw up."

"Yes."

"And that other time - "

As much as Atem wanted to pay attention to what Yugi was saying, his predicament was doing a good job at overshadowing the topic of conversation. Although he couldn't feel worst for worrying his aibou, the bronzer epidemic did not show signs of receding and it was only a matter of time before Yugi noticed (again, why Yugi still didn't notice was beyond the former pharaoh). He wondered how this slow torture compared to one of Priest Seto's counsel meetings. They were certainly similar in terms of their apparent harmless nature and they both had that long, drawn out effect that seemed to be aimed at destroying one's sanity. Somehow, and Atem couldn't quite put his finger (get it? finger?) on it, Priest Seto's meetings were still worse.

In preparation for the inevitable, Atem tried coming up with explanations. In short, there was no plausible explanation for this particular phenomenon aside from the already illogical truth. So, he took a different route and tried to come up with ways to distract his aibou. They could just keep going with the subject at hand but somewhere down the line, Atem would have to offer more insight into the matter than his current 'uh-huhs' and 'yeses.' This would then lead to him either admitting that he had a psychological problem or force him into some sort of other lie which his exhausted mind did not currently have the ability to fabricate. Setting this idea in the "maybe" pile, he thought about simply pulling Yugi into a hug and telling him everything was going to be fine. This would work out nicely considering the "depressing" issue and, if Atem strategically arranged their hands in certain places, Yugi would notice nothing at all. But they couldn't hug forever and pulling away would definitely be problematic. A couple other ideas wove through his mind, some reasonable under certain conditions, while others were completely ridiculous. Time was, however, not on his side and the dyer situation demanded action.

"By the way, why is it so dark in here? Let me open the window."

"W-what?"

Suddenly, the bronzer problem didn't look so bad anymore. Atem's attention was fully snatched from his reverie by the words "open" and "window" and his breath caught in his throat as Yugi dropped his hand, got up from the bed, and headed toward the object of horror.

By an inexplicable impulse, Atem hopped off the bed and caught Yugi's waist in his arms, semi-tackling the teen to the ground. In a way, Providence swooped in and saved him after all because, as it so happens, there was a fine line between arousal induced by fear and arousal induced by sexual attraction. Being (literally) mere inches from death and with his face planted deep in Yugi's fruity-scented hair, Atem found himself getting a bit of a kick out of the situation. His heart thumped away as the seemingly unavoidable demise loomed over him and his breath was laboured for the same reasons.

"M-mou hitori no boku, are you okay?" Yugi's muffled voice came from the carpet as Atem continued to pant into his hair.

Instead of answering, Atem nuzzled Yugi's neck and kissed the side of his face. He wasn't sure why he was doing it. Part of it may have been an unplanned distraction mechanism, but most of it was due to the fact that he was just so happy not to be dead.

"Mou hitori no boku?" The voice from the carpet inquired again, but instead of answering, Atem flipped him over and buried his face in the junction between Yugi's neck and shoulder. The temptation to… bite was, unfortunately, present, but since he'd never tasted human blood, he didn't crave it... that much.

Yugi was more or less confused and somewhat concerned since he believed Atem was downright loony (a looniness that was induced by his gods, no less). He wasn't sure whether to go with it and let the former pharaoh get it out of his system or demand that he head straight for the Domino Institute for the Mentally Unsound.

There was something liberating about believing one was going to die and narrowly missing it in the last second. Life was more vibrant. Soft things were softer. Pretty-smelling things smelt prettier. The splendour of a room devoid of sunlight was all the more splendorous. And having his soft, pretty-smelling other underneath him in a dark room was a 'once in a lifetime' kind of bliss. Atem continued his sensual ministrations, pouring all his joy and relief into his little aibou. Yugi wriggled under him and mumbled unintelligible and somewhat concerned remarks as he kissed, nuzzled, fondled, and groped away. It was one of the most romantic moments in Atem's life and he knew he would remember it for a long time.

While Atem did his business, Yugi was in deep thought regarding the situation at hand. He didn't want to go so far as to call it sexual deviance, but sexual something could be one of the symptoms of his dark's disorder. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. The idea of the gods having a sense of humour wasn't completely unbelievable (for one, Hapi was a hermaphrodite hippo with giant boobs) and many were notorious for screwing with the lives of random mortals. On the other hand, in comparison to the other stuff Atem did throughout the last two weeks, this was more to the good than bad side. After careful observation into the force and skill of Atem's actions, Yugi concluded that, whatever sexual dysfunction his dark had, at least it didn't detract from his overall ability to perform. He also concluded that, for the time being, he would play along and haul Atem to a physician once he was in a more sub-doable state.

Yugi closed his eyes and moaned, "Mmmm….mou hitori no boku...."

Relief descended on Atem when he realised that Yugi actually liked what was going on. He was afraid Yugi would find the situation out of place and question him further. Not willing to lose his advantage, he continued, eliciting the usual reactions from Yugi. Soon, his other would completely be lost in the moment and everything would be a-okay.

As Atem moved… onwards, Yugi tried diagnosing the former pharaoh's condition by thinking back to what he learned from Abnormal Psychology. Thoughts of pedophilia, necrophilia, voyeurism and exhibitionism circled his mind as Atem nipped at his collarbone. These were, however, extreme cases and Yugi didn't want to believe that someone like Atem suffered from any of them. Then again, some of these conditions manifested themselves slowly and the symptoms generally surfaced one at a time. Yes, a visit to the hospital was definitely in order.

"Mmm, mou hitori no boku so… so… good!" Yugi groaned and squirmed beneath the feathery touch of Atem's tapered fingers.

Atem smiled. Yup, a-ok.

"Mmmmmmmmmnn…khuh-kiss me, my love." Yugi moaned, his eyes closed, wracking his brain for the definition of 'Psychogenic Fugue'.

The former pharaoh froze and ran his tongue over his fangs.

Yugi cracked open an eye, wondering if his other had caught onto the act, "Um… mou hitori to boku?"

Atem dropped his head on Yugi's chest and kicked the door closed. It was over. The gods had rejected him and officially decided to boot him out of his god-king status. He would never see Ra again and no one would take him seriously from that moment on. He could almost hear Priest Seto laugh.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his mouth over Yugi's.

-End-

A/N: I don't own any of the works or brands mentioned above. Information regarding vampires came from various sources including mythology, pop culture and Stephanie Meyer's Twilight. And yes, studies show that there is very little difference between arousal induced by fear and arousal induced by sexual attraction. Arousal from one source can also be transferred to an entirely different situation.