Dislcaimer: I don't own Yami or Bakura; if I did, Yami would be the President and Bakura would be a sex slave to fangirls everywhere. This is purely fanmade for entertainment purposes ONLY.

[A/N: I love darkshipping, and if you haven't realized that by now, then you haven't read enough of my stories. Rated for swearing and yaoi kissing (and maybe the lemon in the second half, if I feel like writing it). Enjoy.]

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~Ultimatum~
Part I

A familiar tingle at the base of his spine alerted him of the presence of his adversary. The room was not well lit; a single candle provided the only light – a flickering flame that made shadows dance on the walls like the women of ancient times. There was a broken night stand; a few loose boards on the stained, molding carpet; and two chairs that were positioned so they were facing each other. The thief smiled to himself and closed his eyes as he felt Yami's presence ascend the staircase at the bottom of the abandoned apartment. The shorter duelist stopped just behind the door to this room. It wasn't locked, but Bakura had a feeling he knew why the prince had hesitated.

As effortlessly as breathing, Bakura flicked his wrist and pulled from the pool of dark magic that filled the Sennen Ring. A dagger appeared in his hand, covered in shadows morphing around it as though they were alive. He could see his burgundy eyes reflected in the silver of the blade.

"Scared?" he said, glancing at the door.

A power blast that impressed even the thief knocked the door off its hinges, but he didn't even flinch as it flew past his face and collided into the opposite wall. The room shook from the reverberations. "Show off," he murmured with a grin.

Yami was staring Bakura down with his ever-present determination to win. It made the robber laugh aloud to see what a fire he could ignite in the former-monarch's eyes; it made his arms prickle with goose bumps. His longer-than-lifelong opponent never failed to bring an amazing challenge to the game table.

Yami knew that Bakura already had a weapon, yet for some reason he'd entered without one, leaving himself defenseless. Well, Yami never left himself completely defenseless, but why hadn't he conjured up a tool for battle as well? He was up to something, but Bakura wasn't in the mood for subtlety.

He liked the way Yami's voice sounded when he spoke – as though he were commanding an army instead of telling off an insignificant bug. "I have never been afraid of the likes of you, Bakura. I've come here to let you know that I tire of your games; they shall cease tonight. Peacefully, if possible."

What anger he held in his heart – oh, what fun! Bakura let out a resounding reckless cackle. When he snapped his fingers, the flame in the candle was doused suddenly in darkness. "So you have arrived seeking a challenge."

"I did not say—"

"Oh, but you did. Peacefully to you means 'lock him up,' and I'm not willing to do that peacefully. Please, have a seat."

The former-pharaoh warily made his way over to the chair opposite Bakura's. His violet-red eyes were narrowed into slits that added to the anger Bakura could already feel radiating from him. A giddy feeling washed over him as well as he too let his eyelids fall half-shut. "A shadow duel, then," Bakura said, barely above a whisper, "to finish this tonight." He was waving the blade in his right hand casually up and down. "The winner gets whatever he wants."

"What is it that you want, tomb-robber?" Yami asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He still had not conjured a weapon…

"Me? Why, I want to take everything you have, of course! I thought I made that clear to you ever since you remembered who I was in Battle City…?"

Yami nodded. "You did. Very well – because I feel that I may need to bring this up after our duel, I shall tell you what I want as well."

Bakura tilted his head coquettishly to one side. "Oh? I think that's rather pointless since you're going to lose anyway."

"I want to own you," Yami said flatly, ignoring Bakura's petty attempt to intimidate him. "I want your every thought and action to bend to my will, just as they should have three millennia ago."

"Tch," Bakura spat, "Whatever." He stood with a flourish of his black trench coat and hunkered into a crouched position. The knife was no longer gleaming because the room was no longer lit, but Yami knew it was there. He stood as well, casually dusting off his navy pants.

Bakura sprung from his crouch with cat-like agility. The knife in his hand was already at Yami's throat before he even had the chance to blink, but for some reason he didn't look too worried about that.

"Game over," Bakura said, smiling wickedly.

"I know," Yami replied, staring into Bakura's dark red irises with such arrogant conviction… Bakura's blood boiled to see such a confident look on his face. He was about to die, dammit!

"You are so pathetic! I thought I saw some fight in your eyes, but really you're weaker than a baby kitten," the thief stated. "After I slit your throat here, I'll go after little Yugi and—"

Bang.

The pain in Bakura's side didn't even register in his mind for a full minute or so after he was hit, but the gunshot he heard was instantaneously recognized. He fell to his knees with his eyes wide in shock.

Yami hadn't been waiting to conjure up a weapon – oh no, he knew well of Bakura's skills in combat and in the dark arts. He had already conjured his weapon before he had even entered the room. When the thief had lunged toward him, he'd had just enough time to reach into the school uniform jacket and pull out the small firearm. Apparently, it'd already been cocked and loaded, too.

"Damn…it," Bakura cursed, clenching the bullet wound with his hand to try and stop the bleeding. Damn it, indeed. He'd been inches – literally – from finally killing that bastard… It was his own fault, of course; he's been underestimating Yami's abilities for thousands of years. Triumph was apparently destined to forever flash before his eyes, always just out of his reach.

"Get up," Yami commanded. Bakura thought the view of the decaying carpet was vastly more interesting than his enemy's face, so he chose to remain on his knees.

"Go to Hell," he spat. A wrong move; Yami deftly lifted his boot and kicked Bakura's side with such a force that his vision went dark for a moment or two. He realized the pain then, and just how much he was truly in.

"I said get up," Yami repeated sternly.

"Why don't you make me!" Bakura growled back. There wasn't much he could do for his dignity now that he'd lost, but he could probably escape unscathed if—

Yami kicked him again – same exact place – and caused Bakura to gasp in pain. That prick!

"According to your own rules, I gained whatever I wanted when I won just now – and that happens to be you, thief. You must do as I say, or…well, I didn't even need to look into the terms of our shadow game, but I think it rings along the lines of 'the shadows will take your soul unless you comply,' or something like that."

Bakura's breath hitched in his throat (and it was hard enough for him to breathe with a bullet wound as it was). How did he know that?!

He was right, though. Osiris take him, that bastard was right… Before beginning, Bakura had made certain of Yami's fate by enlisting the help of his precious shadows to solidify the winner by devouring the loser if they were to try and escape. He'd been so sure that he would win this time…

"Then let them take me," he said. The words were heavy on his lips. "I'd rather rot in the shadow realm…than be a plaything for the former prince of Egypt…"

"I can't let you do that, Bakura," Yami replied. Bakura thought hearing the pharaoh say his name like that was strange; he looked up at the winner of their fight with confusion shining in his eyes.

"Why…ngh, the hell not?" Dizziness and nausea were hammering against his head because of the throbbing pain in his side. Was his vision blurring again?

Yami got down on his knees next to Bakura and put his hands on the sides of the thief's face. Bakura was still glaring, but the defiance in him was gone. He'd lost. That was all there was to it. He did gasp when Yami further leaned down to plant a kiss on his lips…

"I want you here, with me. I can't have your soul in the shadow realm if I am to accomplish that."

Bakura couldn't believe his ears, or his eyes, for that matter. Did the pharaoh just admit…to liking him? Actually liking him? The knife was right there on the floor, not a foot away from Bakura and definitely within his reach. All he had to do was snatch up the blade and plunge it deep into Yami's heart. All his problems would be over, but… what would happen after that? What would he do then?

For the love of Ra, was that what he thought his purpose in life was?

"Yami," Bakura said, "If I hold true to this duel, and my every thought and action is made in your will and name, then will you tell me what my purpose in life is?"

"Bakura, I don't think—"

"Be careful what you blurt out. I'm certainly not in the mood for games anymore. I've lost to you one too many times now, and I'm about ready to give up. If you answer correctly, I'll come with you. If you don't, then I'll gladly have my soul eaten by shadows." He rolled his brown eyes slightly. "I swear I don't see why you care anyway…"

Yami grinned and kissed Bakura again, this time longer, slowly. The thief broke the kiss with a horrible cough that tore from his throat, but he looked even more confused than he did the first time Yami kissed him. "Don't forget that I do," the tri-haired duelist whispered.

"Lousy stinking Pharaoh…" Bakura mumbled. He glared at Yami with the hint of a small smile.

"Come on," said the 'stinking Pharaoh,' "I have to take you home so I can work on healing your wound."

Bakura growled, "You're gonna heal it? Why the hell can't I just do it myself?!"

"Do you have to argue about everything?" Yami asked with a degenerate sigh.

Bakura was still rambling on like a train that had run off the tracks. "I know how to, so you can just keep your filthy hands to yourself if I am to—"

Yami wagged his finger in Bakura's face, shushing him as he helped the thief to stand again. Bakura allowed this, begrudgingly. "Ah ah – I command it, so you have to deal withit."

He knew this was coming. He'd killed too many people and used too much shadow magic in his life not to deserve something torturous. Only the lucky ones get to die without redemption… "Fine," Bakura sneered, "But don't forget that you've also got a question to answer, when we get to…home." 'Home' was a foreign word to Bakura's tongue. He wasn't used to having one…

"I know." Yami patted Bakura on the top of his head. "How else did you expect me to get you within my clutches?" He laughed, a deep chuckle as smooth as warm chocolate, but it sounded humorous to Bakura's ears instead of condescending, like it should have. Bakura had a hard time keeping the smile off his own face. He barely managed to, and only because the hole in his side caused him to cringe slightly.

"What. Ever."

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[A/N: This was barely looked over, so reviews would be lovely. Also let me know if you want a second half (with smexy smex in it).]