It was a cool Saturday afternoon in Domino city, and Bakura wanted to be anywhere but at work. He was leaning against some shelves with his eyes closed, hoping that none of the few customers in the shop would bother him. Unfortunately for him, he was stationed in the women's half of the store. He usually had bad luck with attaining peace and quiet when he was assigned to that side.

"Erm...excuse me?" asked a voice from in front of him. His eyebrows furrowed. That was a male voice. Upon opening his eyes he saw that the person the voice belonged to was in fact male. He was sort of short, blond, was stylishly dressed, and was wearing..eyeliner. Great, Bakura thought. A fairy.

"Can I help you?" he asked, trying to sound as polite as possible. If he didn't at least make an effort it was likely that he would be fired.

The guy held up a boot, one of the ones that were on sale now that the weather was warming up. "Do these come in purple, by any chance?" he asked, looking completely serious.

Bakura blinked, a little bit stunned. "Um... I don't think so, no," he said after a moment's hesitation.

"I figured as much," the customer sighed, turning his attention to the boot with a frown. "I could always paint them, I guess..."

"...Right," the Brit answered after a moment. "Is there anything else you need help with?"

The customer shook his head. "No, not right now," he said. "Thanks."

"No problem," Bakura replied as he watched the odd man walk away.

'Well, that was weird,' he thought absently, closing his eyes again. At that point, he thought that it was just a freak incident, and that he'd never see the customer again. Oh, how wrong he was.

The very next week Bakura was restocking the shelves with Converses and various brands of running shoes when he saw the strange customer again. He was walking up and down the aisles, looking at every shoe on display with a critical eye. Bakura silently cursed the requirements of his job as the customer drew closer. "Do you need help finding anything?" he asked, pausing from his restocking.

"No, I'm—hey, you're one from last week," the guy said, tearing his eyes away from the shoes to look at the Brit with interest. His eyes rested on the nametag pinned to Bakura's shirt. "...Bakura? Is that how you say that?"

"Yes," Bakura answered a bit hesitantly, wondering why this random customer cared how to pronounce his name.

"That's not a very British-sounding name," the guy said, referring to his accent.

"I'm sorry my name isn't to your liking," Bakura said sarcastically, then mentally kicked himself. He wasn't being very customer-friendly.

The customer didn't seem too offended, thankfully. He chuckled, even. "Don't worry about it," he said. "My name is Marik, by the way."

"...Marik," Bakura repeated, still not completely sure why he was still holding a conversation with this guy. "So... Anything I can help you with, Marik?"

"Still nothing in purple?" he asked, not looking too hopeful.

"Not unless you want converses," Bakura said, gesturing to the shelf behind him.

"No," Marik shook his head. "I already have them. Thanks anyway."

"Anytime," the Brit nodded, and Marik went back to scrutinizing display shoes. Bakura returned to his shelving duties with a funny feeling that he hadn't seen the last of the odd customer.

The week after that was Easter weekend, so, as is written in the sacred code of store owners, the shoestore was having a big sale. Bakura was hiding in the men's dress shoes, because statistically it was the safest place to be. Male shoppers usually didn't ask for help, because they knew what they were looking for, so the only chance he had of being bothered was if a mother dragged her son in to find a respectable pair of shoes, and as annoying as that was, it certainly didn't compare to the teenage girls that were roaming around other parts of the store.

Unfortunately for him, he had underestimated the lengths a human female was willing to go to pursue someone she had deemed a 'cute guy'. Before long, a group of girls had spotted him and pulled him back to the women's section to 'help' them. Really, all he was doing was having to put up with their obvious flirting.

After several minutes Bakura decided he needed to escape. "If you don't need anything else, I really should get back to work..." he started, but was almost immediately interrupted.

"No, you can't go!" said one of the girls, pouting in a manner he assumed she thought was cute.

"Yeah," agreed another, "we still need your help!"

Bakura sighed, starting to think that he'd never get away. Just then, the customer from the previous two weeks appeared at the end of the aisle. Their eyes met, and he looked at the Brit strangely. Bakura wasn't quite sure why—maybe he just looked that helpless—but the guy disappeared for a few seconds, then reappeared at the other end of the aisle.

"Excuse me," he said, tapping Bakura on the shoulder and getting the attention of all the girls. "If you're not busy, could you help me?" he asked, looking completely innocent.

Bakura wasted no time. "Of course," he said quickly, and before any of the girls could protest the two of them had escaped.

"You looked like you were dying," the guy said smugly.

"Yes, well, I certainly wasn't having a particularly enjoyable time," Bakura agreed. "Anyway, thank you... Malik, was it?"

"Marik," the customer corrected. "And don't worry about it. I actually was looking for some help anyway."

"What for?" Bakura asked quizzically. As often as Marik seemed to come, he probably knew the store just as well as any given employee. "I seriously doubt we've gotten anything in purple since last week."

Marik smirked. "That's genuinely disappointing, but that isn't what I was going to ask," he said.

"Then what did you want?"

Marik stopped, picking up a shoe on display, and held it out to the Brit. "What do you think of this?" he questioned.

Bakura stared at him for a few seconds. "Excuse me?" he asked dumbly.

"This shoe has been driving me crazy. I can't decide whether I like it or not," Marik told him, still holding out the shoe. "I want your opinion."

Bakura looked at Marik, then at the shoe, then back to Marik again. "What makes you think I'm qualified to judge the appearance of women's shoes?" he asked, an eyebrow arched.

Marik smirked. "You don't want me to answer that."

The Brit rolled his eyes. "I really should be getting back to work," he said.

"You have to give me an answer first," Marik protested.

"It looks fine," Bakura said nondescriptly.

"Oh, thank you. So descriptive. You've instantly swayed my opinion," Marik said sarcastically.

"What do you expect?" the Brit shrugged.

Marik sighed, examining the boots again. "You know, if they came in purple, I wouldn't be having this problem," he said pointedly.

"Was that supposed to be some kind of hint?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"No reason," Bakura said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I really do need to get back to doing real work."

"Fine," Marik said, sticking his tongue out for a moment. "Thanks for all the help," he said snidely.

"Any time," Bakura returned with a smirk before leaving the women's section to the safety of the other end of the store once again. Just as he was beginning to wonder if these run-ins were going to become a regular occurrence, he was snapped out of his musings by his boss.

"Bakura, there you are! Are you busy? I was hoping you could help me order next week's stock," she requested with a smile.

At first Bakura was hesitant; ordering stocks wasn't a very exciting job. In fact, if he was thinking about it, he didn't like any of the duties associated with his job. Maybe he should consider finding something else... Then an idea struck him. "Yeah, that's fine," he said, and after she had given him some instructions, he headed to he back of the store to carry out his plan.

The next week things had calmed down from the Easter sale, and Bakura was being cashier. It was task that he especially disliked, as it required him to be in contact with people much more often than in any other of the jobs he did, and working with the cash register was a pain. A plus to it was that when there weren't any customers trying to check out, he could sit down on the camping chair that someone had graciously smuggled in for everyone's use.

He was sitting in this chair when he saw Marik walk into the store over the counter. The regular customer didn't notice him there since he wasn't in plain sight, and immediately began wandering the aisles like he usually did. This was fine; Bakura merely smiled smugly to himself and waited for the blond to be ready to check out.

It didn't take long. Soon Marik had approached the checkout table with a box in hand, right on the heels of a mother buying two pairs of light-up sneakers for her sons.

"Finally found something you wanted, I see," Bakura said, completely poker-faced, as he rung up the box.

Marik smirked. "Don't give me that. I know you're responsible for this."

"Marik, whatever are you talking about?" the Brit asked, taking the blond's credit card.

Marik just rolled his eyes. "I have been coming here every week for months. Not once has there been anything like this in purple until I started talking to you. Coincidence? I think not."

Bakura peeked inside the box as he was putting it in the bag. Sure enough, it was a pair of purple boots. "What do you know!" he said with mock surprise.

"You're an idiot," Marik said with reproach, but he was still smiling. Bakura shrugged. "I'll just assume this is your repayment for last week." He paused, suddenly thinking of something. "But still, I guess you're a pretty cool guy. We should hang out sometime."

The Brit arched his eyebrows in genuine surprise this time. He couldn't tell if he was being propositioned or not, but to his own puzzlement, he found that he didn't particularly mind the idea of spending more time with Marik outside of work. "Um... Sure, I guess..."

Marik smiled. "Cool. I'll figure out something for us to do and see you next week," he said, taking his bag.

"Sounds good," Bakura agreed. He told the blond when he got work at his request, and then Marik exited the store, leaving Bakura in a semi-daze. He certainly hadn't expected any of this to happen when he was first approached by a random stranger asking about women's boots in odd colors, but, he was pretty okay with it. Work the next week wasn't quite as terrible as usual.

A/N: Bakura is scared of getting fired because his boss is Tea and she is a scary boss to have.

That being said I am not completely sure what to say about this fic. It was spawned when my brother and I were stuck in a shoestore while waiting for the rest of our family to finish shopping months ago [mad props to my bro for being the best person ever]. I wrote all but the last scene within the next week, then forgot about it until today, when I read through it again and decided to finish it. By the time I read the third scene I was caught between cackling madly and wondering what the heck I was writing. Feels good, man.

There will probably be more commentary on my LJ soon as I look back over it with horror and wonder why on earth I chose to put this thing on the internet. My username is quasiroyale; look me up, please? I just got it and I want to make some friends. C:

I am now going to use this space for shameless advertising and say that, although this is but a weird little Thiefshipping oneshot, I have a weirder but bigger one in the works right now called Heart & Soul, and I would really appreciate it if you'd read that too!

~r.i.