A/N: I finally got around to writing some Yu-Gi-Oh! fic. And it's darkshipping. Prideshipping is my usual OTP, but I may have convinced myself otherwise writing this. Any clashes with canon (except for the obvious) are my bad. Enjoy and please give me lovely feedback.

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! is very obviously not my property.

It had been another long day in Duellist Kingdom. Battles had been fought, won and lost; dreams of victory had been shattered. Hundreds of veteran duellists had finally come up against someone better than them, or luckier than them, and abruptly found the end of their path to becoming the champion. As the weaker continued to be picked off one by one, there emerged a smattering of those who had what it took. Yugi Mutou and his friends were among these fortunate ones. As they camped down for the night, they could still hear the cheers and roars of other duels. The artificial light of Industrial Illusions' technology blemished the night sky. For Yugi, however, the duelling was over for the day. He snuggled into his sleeping bag, and slept.

A few minutes after Yugi had fallen asleep, he sat up, unzipped his sleeping bag, and left the tent. He tilted his head to frown at the moon. Had anyone been watching him, they would have seen his face and the shadows painted on it by the moonlight, and barely have recognised it as the face of the cheerful freshman from Domino High. However, it was a face that many others would have recognised, and cursed.

Yami did not notice anyone watching him.

Pushing his hands into his pockets, he began to climb the small hill they had camped at the bottom of. The Millennium Puzzle bumped against him with every step he took, and he thought of the boy who had completed it and felt a little guilty. It was not like him, at least not of late, to take control of Yugi's body without the boy's knowledge. Yugi was his partner. But Yugi was asleep, while Yami had been unable to relax the instincts, the adrenaline, that had come with the day's battles. All he wanted was to look at the stars for a while, and to think. He did not expect his partner would begrudge him that.

He sat down at the top of the hill. It afforded him a little bit of a view; he could just see the ocean, which lay dark and still. He saw thick forest surrounding their campsite, and white light that was spilling through the treetops in one place, indicating a late night duel was taking place. His heart beat a little faster at this, and he started to stand so he could see more clearly what was going on, but then he sat back down. He was looking at the stars. He was thinking. Nothing more. There would be challenges in the morning, and many of them. He let out a sigh, and lay back, crossing his arms behind his head. The sky hung heavily over him, and he found it oddly comforting. The stars were constant and ancient, sure of their course and their aim. He doubted that there were games in the stars, but there was order and pattern, and that was almost enough. Order and pattern...and faith. There were those who thought that from the stars, one could predict the future. But whatever mystical power and beauty the stars held, he thought with a sudden clarity, they were lonely.

The thought, unbidden like a strange visitor in his mind, made him uncomfortable, and he sat up. He hugged his knees loosely and looked at his surroundings again. There was something not quite right. A feeling, and a flash of memory. He shook his head slightly, and tried to play back the last few hours. They had cooked around the campfire, and eaten the slightly charred results. Joey and Tristan had joked around as usual, with Joey making some noise about how awesome his duel today had been, and Yugi laughing, and Tea smacking him and telling him not to get so bigheaded. Joey had done excellently, though, Yami reflected. He was a relatively fast learner, and more importantly a hard worker. And somehow, the luck of the gods seemed to be with him.

Bakura had been quiet, laughing gently every so often at one of Tristan's jokes. He seemed tired. He had been the first to turn in for the night after watching the fire burn down to mere embers.

"Goodnight, you guys," he said, giving Yugi an inscrutable look, and then he had fallen asleep almost instantly, his light snores making them all giggle. Everyone else had gone to bed soon after. And then Yami had gotten up and left the tent. And now here he was.

A cheer went up, followed by what seemed to be a tiny explosion. It came from the area that Yami had already identified as containing a Duel Monsters game. The cheer must have signified someone's victory, and some unlucky soul's defeat, as it fell into the dead night leaving nothing but silence. The light also died away. The stars shone brighter without its interference. Yami gazed up at them thoughtfully, and then he realised. When he had left the tent, it had been silent. Not a single light snore.

Bakura, he thought, and then no, not Bakura.

The one who pretended to be Bakura.

Suddenly galvanised, Yami leapt to his feet in a single liquid motion and began running down the hill. It came to him then, the feeling that had disturbed him – when he had left the tent, he had felt as though he was being watched. He had grown complacent, surrounded by his friends and riding on easy wins. Now there was a real enemy, and the thought excited him in ways he didn't think to question. Bakura. The thief. White hair in the dark. Yes. He stood, panting a little, next to the tent. He was fairly sure his suspicions were correct, would have gone as far as saying he knew (but then, when wasn't he certain that he was right?) but it was still worth checking. He lifted the flap of the tent and saw five sleeping bags in the gloom. Only three were occupied.

He let the flap fall and stood up straight again. No need to worry his companions. He scowled into the forest surrounding him, and regretted for a moment leaving his vantage point, but it didn't really matter anymore. He was no longer driven by anything conscious, but by a base kind of instinct. Like seeking like.

"Bakura," he growled. He entered the forest.

Instantly, the world became dark. He could see his hand in front of his face, but little else. He stumbled once or twice over tree roots, but quickly became used to the uneven footing. Yami was extremely good at games, and this hunt was just a new one. The moonlight filtering through the trees made silvery pools on the ground that he was just able to navigate by. Relentlessly, he pursued his target.

He did not have to search for long. Yami turned right at a particularly huge tree, nearly fell over again, regained his balance, and found himself looking right at Yami Bakura. The white haired boy was leaning against a tree trunk in a small clearing, and eating what appeared to be a profiterole. As Yami stared at him, he wiped his mouth of crumbs, turned to him, and made an exaggerated double-take.

"Oh, hello, Yugi!" he said brightly. "Whatever are you doing out here? It's awfully dark."

Yami stepped closer. "Don't play games with me. You know better than that."

Bakura was all wide-eyed innocence, but there was a glint in those eyes that Yami recognised. It had been there when he was watching the embers of their campfire. It had been there when he had said goodnight. "I'm sure I don't understand."

"I know who you are!" Yami shouted. He made as if to grab Bakura's sweater, as though he wanted to shake the truth out of him, but Bakura rolled out of his way and stood up. His face was hidden by his hair as he started to laugh. It was an eerie sound, but Yami did not find it as unpleasant to listen to as perhaps he should. There was something horribly familiar in it. Bakura raised his head and Yami caught a flash of teeth in an cruel grin.

"I think perhaps you do, pharaoh," the thief agreed, and now he had dropped all pretence. "So what does bring you out here? Anyone would think you had a death wish."

Yami scoffed. "Is that a threat?" he asked.

Bakura spread his hands in a placatory gesture. "Of course not," he said, sounding wounded. "It's just rather dangerous to be out without your friends when you have so many enemies."

"Thank you for the warning."

Bakura stretched. "If we're done here, I think I'll be off. I'm still... hungry," he said darkly, and started to walk away. Yami rushed forward and grabbed his arm. Bakura pulled roughly away, gracing the other with a look of disdain, but Yami held on. With a grunt of frustration, Bakura fell. The smaller boy landed on top of him, grinning slightly wildly.

"What do you think you're doing!" Bakura snapped. His facade of cool was abandoned. He cursed and struggled like a demon to get free, but Yami's slim frame belied his strength. Or perhaps it was through pure determination that he was able to keep Bakura pinned. He wouldn't be surprised, he thought sourly.

"What have you been doing?" Yami countered. Now he was in control, he felt better about the entire situation. He enjoyed seeing the thief powerless. It sent a thrill through him that was almost better than the thrill of a particularly brilliant play in Duel Monsters. Almost.

"I enjoy the dark," Bakura muttered. Yami looked at him. "All right! I've been stealing food! Will you just get off me!"

Now he held his target captive, there was no way Yami was going to give up that easily. "You shouldn't be here," he said coolly. "I won't let you cause me or my friends any more harm. You can't be trusted."

Bakura narrowed his eyes momentarily. He looked as though he was about to say something. Then slowly, his scowl was replaced by a smirk. Yami felt his irritation rise. Even incapacitated, clearly defeated, that fool Bakura was as arrogant as ever. Clearly he couldn't understand he'd already lost whatever idiotic battle he thought he was fighting. He felt Bakura laughing before he heard it, and lost his temper.

"I don't know what you're-"

"Pharaoh," Bakura interrupted easily, "I think there could be benefits for you if you decided to keep me around." He was still smirking.

"There is absolutely nothing-" Yami began, and stopped as Bakura finally managed to wrestle an arm free. Instead of pushing him off like he expected, Bakura pressed his palm against Yami's chest with something close to gentleness. When his fingers deliberately grazed Yami's nipple, Yami jerked back in surprise. Laughing that unsettling laugh again, Bakura took the opportunity to push Yami away. Yami did not have time to get back to his feet before Bakura was on top of him.

The first thing Yami felt was panic. It was not an emotion he was used to. He tried frantically to smother it, worried he would wake the rightful owner of the body he was using at this most inopportune of moments. His advantage was gone, suddenly and by means he could not quite understand. Bakura, or at least the spirit of the Millennium Puzzle, was a mystery, and a rather urgent one. He struggled half-heartedly. "I don't want this," he said seriously.

"You do," Bakura responded, and Yami knew he was right. Tonight was the most bizarre of nights, and yet nothing about it had felt wrong since he'd found the smirking white haired boy. Pallid in the unstable light of the moon, Bakura had been beautiful, and something in him had responded to that without his even noticing. And Bakura had known. Bakura had known long before him that the pleasure he took in having the thief between his legs had been something more than the pleasure of seeing an enemy's downfall.

Their lips met, and Bakura bit him almost hard enough to draw blood, but beautiful things with a cruel streak were perhaps the best kind anyway. Yami grabbed fistfuls of Bakura's thick hair, pulling a little harder than he had to, and Bakura responded with a muffled curse and a bite to Yami's ear that made him gasp with mingled pleasure and pain.

This is a duel, Yami thought. It wasn't quite right, but it made him surer of what he was doing. He matched Bakura play for play: every searing kiss returned, each sliding, stroking touch mirrored, with the aim being to get the other to cry out louder. This is a duel, he thought even as his ability to think began to fade under the successive waves of sensation. Bakura looked up for a second from kissing his hip, and he saw the mad moon reflected in his eyes. This is a duel, he told it.

And I am not going to lose.

They did not separate as soon as they finished. This surprised them both, though they didn't show it. Yami found himself in a position not unlike the one he had begun the night's adventures in: on his back, gazing at the stars. He felt Bakura's eyes on him again, and his lips twitched. Let him look, he thought.

"They say our lives are written in the stars," the thief said.

Yami considered not responding. "Are they?" he asked after an immeasurable pause.

Bakura laughed, though not with his usual abandon. It made him sound sane, and it made him sound sad. "I doubt it. Nobody's life is that important. Not even yours or mine, pharaoh." His sweater was still on the floor, and he hadn't bothered to button up his shirt. He shivered, and this time he felt Yami watching him. He expected a reprimand, expected a cold voice telling him to get dressed properly, but instead felt a cool hand on his face. He turned blindly, and Yami's mouth was on his, sweet and distracting in this lonely night.

Too sweet, he thought, and he started to pull away, but Yami had evidently had the same thought. They sat across from each other. Yami's violet eyes were lovely even in the gloom.

"I am not your friend," Yami said finally.

"I should hope not," Bakura said.

Yami got fully dressed and stood up to leave. Bakura couldn't help but stare at the Millennium Puzzle. Yami noticed, and dropped his hand instinctively to touch it.

"I expect you to leave me and my friends alone from now on," Yami said.

Half-naked in the night, Bakura laughed out loud. He stood up and gave an exaggerated bow. "As you wish, my lord."

Yami's lip curled involuntarily, and then he turned quickly away. His form disappeared into the darkness and Bakura was alone.

Perhaps he should have been hurt by Yami's disgust, but no, he was far beyond caring about things like that. Bakura chuckled again, this time under his breath, and spread himself out under the heavy sky. It didn't matter. Not a lot did. And besides, Yami would be back. He was as constant and wearingly predictable as those twinkling stars.

When would the stars be without the ever-present, ever-changing moon?