Hey, hey, Yu-Gi-Oh fandom!

Thiefshipping is awesome. Let's just open up with that, shall we? To celebrate my love for the couple, I thought I would write a little something for them. Granted, I've had like eighteen thousand ideas involving these two as fanfics go, but this is the first one I started.

Their personalities will be closer to the Abridged versions, because they're more fun to work with. I try not to make them go too over-the-top, though, so they have pieces of their original personalities in them. It's all up to interpretation, I guess.

This story is third-person, limited to Marik's perspective. And since things get confusing easily, in this story, Marik is the hikari and Melvin is the yami. Enjoy!

Where the Heart Is
Chapter One

Marik was starting to notice strange things about his roommate.

These last few months of coexistence had brought the Egyptian a specific image of what life in the dorm would be like. Bakura, another student, would consciously not give a shit about most of what Marik wanted. Whenever Marik would try to study, Bakura proceeded to watch TV on high volume just to agitate him; whenever Bakura would try to study, Marik retaliated by singing karaoke at the top of his lungs. They would argue over everything, from pizza toppings to domestic chores to miniscule habits that the other would find outrageously annoying.

It was a routine they shared. A weird routine, one that had made a comfortable mess of their lives, but a routine nonetheless.

When Marik paused to consider their "friendship," if he could even call it that, he saw that it was built upon mutual layers of distrust and mischief. If anything, the two of them were frienemies; getting on each other's nerves was part of the fun. In spite of it seeming that such companionship would never work, that this level of constant irritation would one day wear them into nonspeaking terms, Marik was surprised to find that their bond was uncannily solid. Even when it didn't seem like it, the two respected one another. And talking to Bakura, just being with someone he could mess with and wasn't afraid to mess with him back, made Marik feel oddly content.

Not that he had much time to consider that, though, because Bakura began to slowly bend their carefully woven "hatred" into something completely different; whether it was intentional or not, Marik couldn't say, but he had witnessed… changes. Changes in Bakura's words, in Bakura's manner, in Bakura's very eyes…

And he was determined to find out what had brought them to light.

It all began one morning in mid November. Marik was finishing one of his luxurious 40-minute showers, feeling accomplished at having used all the hot water on the entire campus. The steam was so thick that not even Bakura's fancy knife work could cut through it. Humming under his breath, the Egyptian felt along the walls of the room as he got out of the shower, not even bothering to pat himself down with a towel before making his way to the bathroom counter where his pajamas laid.

As he put on his boxers, he heard an obnoxious thudding sound coming from the door.

"Marik! I've been trying to tell you for the last ten minutes, I need to take a shower now. My job interview's in forty minutes and I can't go in there smelling like bull."

"My goodness, Fluffy," Marik drawled, intentionally calling Bakura by his hated nickname, "maybe I wouldn't have gotten up to shower so late if, oh, I don't know, you hadn't convinced me to watch Hannibal Lector the night before! It took me three friggin' hours to fall asleep!"

"The fact that you're a baby is no concern of mine; I just need you out of the shower."

Marik scrunched his nose. "All right, all ready! Frig!"

The barely-clothed Egyptian boy unlocked the door to the bathroom, releasing a bank of steam into the cool air of the dorm. "Satisfied?" Marik asked. Bakura ignored him, simultaneously plowing towards the shower and removing his clothes at an impressive rate. Marik waited until he heard the shower curtains close before he turned towards the mirror, pouting in distaste at the wet hair hugging his scalp and the general lack of eyeliner on his face. Quickly shimmying into his pants, Marik called, "I don't see why you're even bothering trying to get a job, Bakura. Everyone knows you're the so-called 'Prince of Thieves,' so what are you up to? Come to think of it, where are you even applying?"

"I have my reasons. And if you must know, I'm going for part-time night watchman at the Domino City Museum — the pre-midnight shift."

Marik could feel his pants cling to his legs from the excess of moisture on and around him. He decided he'd waited long enough to apply his eyeliner. "You told me you thought museums were boring as tar," the Egyptian skeptically responded, frowning as he realized he had just applied his typical eye makeup before his hair was fully dry. He covered his eyes with his hands and shook his head like a dog, splattering droplets on the mirror's surface.

"Like I said, I have my reasons."

The topic was dropped as Marik heard the shower curtain open. He kept his eyes glued to the mirror, fixing his slowly-drying hair into a halfway-decent state and brushing some stray bangs behind his ears. But when he didn't hear the sound of Bakura's footsteps, he turned his head around only to find a pair of mahogany eyes boring into him.

Marik's paranoia about the mass of intricate scars along his back immediately got the better of him. Clasping his legs together and crossing his arms, turning ever so slightly in Bakura's direction, he sent his roommate a glare.

"Is something bothering you?"

For some reason, that comment seemed to wake Bakura up. "What? No."

"You were staring."

"N-no I wasn't," the thief spluttered, averting his eyes. "I just need you to get out of here before I come out of the shower. I left my clothes on the nightstand."

"Again?"

Bakura mumbled something under his breath. Marik sighed. "You really need to stop doing that. We don't have any blinds in this cheap little dorm. I mean, what if some innocent kid outside sees you parading around in here without anything covering your 'Beaver Warrior?'"

"Get out of the fucking bathroom so I can gather my clothes."

"What does it matter if I see you naked? We're both men." At that comment, Bakura decisively glowered at some malicious, nonexistent spot on the tile floor. The tanned boy almost laughed at the intensity of his gaze. "My gods, Bakura, I had no idea you were such a prude," Marik snickered, rolling his eyes as he grabbed his lavender hoodie and swaggered out towards the 'living room.' He chucked the shirt on the couch and stretched, acknowledging Bakura's footsteps as he ran into their bedroom (one with two beds; after all, it was a college dormitory) to put on fresh garments.

Not even two minutes later, the thief emerged, wearing his simple white-and-blue striped shirt and, to Marik's surprise, a comically large black tie. When Marik turned to see it, he snorted, clapping a hand to his mouth as he struggled to contain a laugh. His roommate narrowed his eyes, not amused, before smirking. "Truly, Marik, one must understand how to balance casual and professional attire when applying for work."

"In that case you'll never get the job because you just failed horribly," the Egyptian retorted, small bursts of chuckles punctuating every few words. Bakura's mouth flattened into a line as he turned, heading towards the door. At the sound of the doorknob turning open, Marik suddenly remembered something. "Hey, Bakura!"

"Marik, I really need to go. What the bloody hell do you possibly—?"

"Yeah, sure, angry rant," the Egyptian spoke quickly, silencing his friend. "Bakura, could you come home before seven this evening? I need to study for this big math exam tomorrow and I could use the help."

"This isn't my 'home,'" Bakura spat. "This is a crappy little dorm where we've been forced to live in together for the school year."

"Are you going to help me or not?" Marik pressed.

"Yes." The thief responded so quickly that the Egyptian felt momentarily stunned.

Marik blinked. Strange. "Thanks."

At that point, the Egyptian decided to focus his attention on his shirt, pulling it over his head as he heard the front door creak open. Part of him was a little suspicious at how fast Bakura answered his request to help him study, but he discarded that after a moment or two when he figured the thief probably needed help as well. Neither of them were very good at math, after all; but if they worked together, they could probably manage it. Marik nodded to himself, satisfied at this conclusion, so lost in his own mind that he didn't notice Bakura giving him a long look back, running his eyes over his whole body, lingering on his face, before heading out.

To be continued...

Man, this isn't even technically a chapter. This is a short-as-hell intro I cobbled together with an initial "chapter" of sorts. Honestly, I just can't get over how short this is. It reminds me of my first Warriors fanfic... excuse me while I shudder.

Reviews and favorites are always loved. Criticism is welcome, so long as it's polite. Thank you very much for reading!