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Bakura never considered himself particularly squeamish. In fact, he’d seen enough unpleasantness to last him more lifetimes than he’d care to have. Broken bones, shattered teeth, disembowelment — if he hadn’t been the culprit, then there was a high chance he may have been the recipient.
Still, there was something inherently unsettling about watching his own blood being drawn into a tube. The way it flowed so readily from a tiny needle prick made him feel more like a tap than a ferocious creature of the night.
Especially since his attending nurse was salivating.
"Think you've got enough?" he asked, flexing his fingers in an attempt to restore some colour.
The blond hummed, a fifth test tube in hand.
“Almost. Your doctor…or vet,” he grinned, lilac eyes flicking towards Bakura’s wolf-like ears, “requested we run as many tests as possible without overdoing it.”
Bakura raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly constitutes ‘overdoing it’?”
“No idea.”
“Great.”
“I mean, you’re still sitting upright, no? I figure we’re still in the green zone.” There was a sickening ‘shlurp’ when the fourth tube was swapped for the fifth. “...Maybe the greenish-yellow zone. Like snot. Or phlegm.”
Despite feeling like he was about to keel over, Bakura snorted. If it were any other underpaid, overworked nurse cracking jokes at his expense, he’d have torn their throat out at the ‘vet’ comment. But, seeing as he was currently ‘involved’ with the angel-faced bloodsucker in charge of his care…
“All done!”
Bakura felt a weight lift from his chest when the large needle was finally removed from his arm. The nurse sighed, glancing over his shoulder before slipping the bloodied syringe into his mouth, happily sucking it like a lollipop.
“Malik, that’s disgusting,” Bakura grimaced, wrinkling his nose.
“Oh please; it’s not like I haven’t tasted you before,” Malik said dismissively, double checking the test tubes’ labels. After setting them aside, he pulled the syringe from his mouth and tossed it into the proper bin, licking his lips. “Hm. I’m not tasting any silver, but your cholesterol’s a bit high,” he said, pressing a clean cotton ball into the crook of Bakura’s elbow. “Ease up on the pork. You’re lucky you don’t have pinworms.”
“Yeah? You’re lucky we’re fucking.”
Malik scoffed, gently flicking his ear. “Be nice.”
He carefully wound a strip of gauze around Bakura’s arm, making sure it wasn’t too tight before tying it into a cute bow. Although his technique was as flawless as ever, Bakura noticed a slight tremble in Malik’s movements.
“What’s got you all jittery?” he asked, grabbing his wrist. “There wasn’t any silver in that bullet, you said so yourself.”
“Which I didn’t know until literally a few seconds ago.”
Bakura smirked. “Were you worried about me?”
Malik’s cheeks burned red with Bakura’s blood. “Obviously. Stupid.”
“Cute. And unfortunate.”
“You need to be more careful!” he scolded. “Piss off the wrong hunters and they’ll paint a target on your back.”
Bakura shrugged, waving away the warning. “I understand this is all probably new and exciting to you, but I’m old Malik. Once you’ve dealt with one hunter, you’ve dealt with all of them. They’re boring. Predictable. Uncreative.”
“Oh yeah?” Malik huffed, once again looking towards the locked door. “Then let me put this another way. Piss off the wrong hunters and they’ll paint a target on our backs.”
“You could always ditch me if that ever happened,” Bakura said, slowly getting to his feet. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone chose to save their ass over mine.”
A stinging pain blossomed on his right cheek, shooting across the gnarled scar carved beneath his eye. He held a hand to his face and turned to Malik with steadily growing rage, hackles raised and fangs bared. However, instead of backing down, Malik met him eye to eye, a scarlet tinge in his pale irises.
“I’m insulted you even thought to suggest that,” he hissed. “I’d never ditch you!”
Bakura held his gaze, ignoring the discomforting warmth bubbling in his gut. “Would you be saying that even if I couldn’t promise the same to you?”
Malik clicked his tongue. “Still trying to convince me you’re a ‘lone wolf,’ huh?”
“Seeing as how it clearly hasn’t gotten through that thick skull of yours…”
“Insult me all you want; I know you care about me.”
Bakura rolled his eyes, prepared to refute the newly turned vampire’s ridiculous claim. But for one reason or another, the scathing words refused to form, his throat producing a high-pitched gagging sound. Seeing Malik’s adorably bewildered expression, Bakura held a fist to his mouth and coughed, refusing to lose face.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”