Here we go! My first ever necroshipping! Wish me luck! Tell me what you think, please!

Dedicated to Lily Angel of Chaos, the wonderful person who made a request that I try my hand at this pairing! Hope you like it, Lily! Sorry it's not very long!

Please review!

Like To Think We Could

Love involves a peculiar unfathomable combination of understanding and misunderstanding.

~Diane Arbus

Ryou liked to think he was a smart boy. He liked to think he could understand the reasons behind the things Bakura did. And, in truth, he was, and usually, he could.

There were times, however, when these things meant absolutely nothing if, in conjunction, you are as naïve as a newborn kitten. Which Ryou was.

Now that's not to say Ryou didn't know about sex. He did, quite vividly. (Such are the woes of being best friends with Malik Ishtar, boyfriend of Domino's biggest pair of leather enthusiasts.) He may not have ever experienced it himself, but he was confident that if asked, he could answer correctly on what a 'blowjob' was, where the most common erogenous zones were, and how to properly prepare another male for sex. (Because if there was one thing Ryou was most definitely not naïve about, it was his sexuality.)

In truth, the thing Ryou was naïve of most often would be advances. Namely, those made unto himself by other males. So when Marik asked to live with Bakura and he while leering suggestively and trailing his hands far too close to Ryou's rump under the pretense of a hug, the poor white haired lad thought nothing of it and immediately agreed.

Bakura, on the other hand, never was and never would be naïve, and had immediately assessed and singled out Marik's true motivations.

Which is probably why he snuck into Marik's new room that night and covered him in multi-colored paints and silly string as he slept.

Things were about to get very interesting in the Bakura household.

Bakura was having a very good morning.

This in itself was a rarity for the former spirit, as he usually hated the morning hours with a vengeance that was only matched by the one he'd felt for the pharaoh during his revenge days. Today, however, he'd woken up with a warmly content feeling that he hoped would continue to follow him through the afternoon.

As he descended the stairs, the delicious smell of frying meat wafted to his nose, and Bakura's mood skyrocketed. Ryou was making breakfast, and if Ryou was making breakfast, that meant he was most likely wearing that frilly little apron he was so fond of using when he cooked…

Rushing down the stairs, anticipating a sexy, apron-wearing Ryou standing at the stove he was unpleasantly surprised to find Ryou was at the stove…but with an unexpected leech at his side.

"Ryou-chan~is it almost done?"

"Almost, almost! Have some patience, Marik!"

Ryou giggled as he tended the sizzling eggs on the stove, seeming to pay no mind to the wandering hands that slipped over his sides, beneath his apron, brushed the top of his uniform-clad thighs…

Bakura felt like punching a wall. A metal wall. Very, very hard.

Ryou chose this moment to spot Bakura in his peripheral, and turned to smile sweetly. "Good morning Bakura!"

Bakura felt a twitch in his right eye. Marik rested his head on Ryou's shoulder, smirking wickedly at the thief as he made a show of wrapping his arms around Ryou's midsection. "Yes, good morning Kura-chan!"

"Breakfast will be ready soon," Ryou said, scrambling the eggs with his spatula. "Why don't you take a seat?"

Grunting, Bakura did as told and plopped into a chair at the table, leaning his elbow on the surface with chin in hand. He watched as Marik was shooed away as well, smiling maliciously as the blonde seated himself with a pout. A hush fell over the kitchen, the only sound the popping sizzle of oil and Ryou's soft humming.

Bakura nearly gave into the urge to drum his fingers on the table, when he glanced at Marik. Odd, the other male didn't seem bored. In fact, he looked quite happy. Curious, he noted Marik's avid gaze on something and followed their path to see just what was so interesting.

Marik yelped when a foot caught him sharply in the shin, and glared across the table. "The hell?" he whispered angrily.

"Stop leering at my host's ass," Bakura hissed, just as softly.

Marik rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "Oh, hush, kitty."

Bakura sucked in a harsh breath. "Not a ki—"

"Eat up!" Bakura was cut off as Ryou placed plates heaped with eggs, bacon, and hash browns in front of himself and Marik. Grumbling, he picked up a fork and began to shovel the food into his mouth.

Ryou wrinkled his nose in a way Bakura was reluctant to admit was adorable. "At least taste the food before you swallow."

Marik smiled like a knife, making a show of chewing and swallowing slowly. "It's absolutely delicious, Ryou-chan. Thank you very much."

Ryou blushed modestly, sending a grateful smile to his house guest. "You're welcome, Marik."

Bakura scowled darkly as Marik flashed him a triumphant smirk. He suddenly had an urge to flick eggs into the other's face.

"Oh no!" Ryou rushed to his feet, glancing worriedly at the wall-clock. "I'm going to be late!" Picking up his school bag from where he'd left it on the counter, Ryou smiled over his shoulder. "I'll be back at the usual time, you two. Don't tear the house apart, okay?" Then, chuckling, the boy left the kitchen, and shortly after, the house.

Leaning back in his chair, Marik gazed heatedly after Ryou. "Those pants really make his ass look—"

He was forced to pause as an egg slapped the side of his face.

Disgruntled, Marik growled a he wiped the mess away. "Really kitty, was that necessary?"

Bakura was leaning across the table before the sentence was through, a wicked looking blade in hand and under Marik's chin. The tip just barely feathered across bronze skin.

"You listen here, Marik," Bakura said in a low voice, "stay away from my host."

Marik cocked an eyebrow, un-intimidated. "And what right do you have over him, thief?" His lips twitched, giving a brief glimpse of feral teeth. "You don't share a body with him anymore. Any claim you had is gone now."

"I have more right to claim him," Bakura snarled, "than you ever will."

"Really?" Marik drawled. "Alright then, I accept."

Bakura's knife wavered slightly. "What?"

"I accept," Marik repeated. "If you actually deserve him so much more than I, then let's see you take him before I do." Shoving Bakura's knife away, barely nicking the skin, Marik stood from the table and strode to the doorway, pausing before he left. "Let the games begin."

Bakura, now alone, flicked his wrist, making the blade disappear just as quickly as it had appeared. He sighed heavily, glancing at the half-full plate before him. He poked at it disinterestedly with his fork.

Bakura was having a very bad morning.

Bakura thanked the gods with a fervor he hadn't bothered with since he was a child in Ancient Egypt that Marik was gone when Ryou arrived home. As long as he was able to keep the boy away from the psychotic other, he might be able to solve this quicker than he thought.

"Oi, Ryou, we're going for a walk." Bakura gripped the other's forearm as he dragged him from the living room.

"Eh? But I just got home, and…where's Marik?" Ryou struggled uselessly against the other's grip.

"Visiting Malik, tormenting Pharaoh and his Midget, the usual." Bakura tugged harder. "Come on, Ryou."

"But," Ryou gasped at one of Bakura's harder yanks, reaching the foyer of the home, "we can't just leave with the door unlocked, but we can't leave Marik locked out when he gets back, either!"

"We can lock the door," Bakura reassured, quickly and swiftly placing his shoes on his feet without releasing Ryou's arm. "Marik has a key, he'll be fine."

"Wait, wait!" Ryou doubled his struggling as they neared the door. "Shouldn't we at least leave a note so Marik knows where we've gone?"

"It's fine, Ryou—"

"Why, hello." The front door swung open before Bakura could reach it, and Marik smirked in the doorway as his eyes swept the scene. "Where are you off to?"

"Oh, Marik!" Ryou smiled. "Bakura was just suggesting we take a walk. Would you like to join us?"

Marik's eyes flickered to Bakura's annoyed expression, unholy amusement reflecting in those unnatural irises, and said, "I'd be happy to, Ryou!"

Laughing lightly, Ryou shifted his wrist so that it was he pulling Bakura now. "Let's go then."

"I hate you," Bakura growled, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl twisting his lips.

"Oh, and why is that, kitty?" Marik's grin gave a brief flash of canines. "Can't handle competition?"

Bakura's scowl deepened. "Shut the hell up, Marik." His eyes glanced at the smug male next to him. "I can handle competition just fine."

"Ah, of course," Marik nodded in mock understanding. "Except when that competition is me, that is."

"Cocky bastard!"

"Angry kitten."

Marik laughed as Bakura growled.

Ten feet or so ahead, Ryou pondered as he peeked over his shoulder at the two walking behind him. He couldn't hear what was being said, but…

He certainly could see.

With a strange, still kind of calm, Ryou observed the two lean ever closer together as they walked, speaking heatedly.

Laughing through his nose, Ryou turned forwards once more, thinking nothing of the uncomfortable way his chest clenched at the sight.

Ryou felt that it had been a strange two weeks. Bakura and Marik had been at each other's throats all hours when they weren't insisting he spend time with one or the other. (It should be noted that this 'time' he spent with one was always, without fail, interrupted by the one left out.)

Confused by the odd behavior of his housemates, Ryou had begun watching them. It had shocked him to discover the number of hushed conversations he'd been privy to. They reacted to each other flawlessly, playing off their quirks and personalities. If one moved, the other was aware of it, and shifted to compensate. If one spoke, the other immediately responded in some way.

It was perfect, he mused. Bakura and Marik seemed like nothing less than perfect.

For each other, that is.

Ignoring his aching heart, and the bitter shift of his gut that he knew bespoke jealousy, he firmed his resolve.

If it made them happy, the gods knew Ryou would help in any way he could.

Even if that meant abusing his own heart in the process.

"The arcade?" Bakura said tonelessly.

Ryou laughed. "Yes, the arcade." He gestured airily towards the various games around them. "I thought this might be a good way to spend some time together." He glanced coyly from the corner of his eyes. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not!" Marik exclaimed jovially. "It's just another chance to thrash kitty over here."

Bakura glared, snapping, "You wish, ass-hat!"

"Hm," Marik hummed. Spotting something a bit further back in the arcade, Marik's eyes lit with mischief. "We'll just see about that. Follow me, kitty."

Growling, Bakura stalked after Marik. Ryou watched beneath hooded lashes, sighed, and turned on his heel to leave the arcade. In just a few moments they'd be so caught up in their little game, he was sure they wouldn't even notice him missing.

His gaze shifted to the floor beneath his feet, a heaviness settling over his shoulders.

Just as well, he supposed.

"Best two out of three."

Bakura snorted. "Oh give up, Marik. I won."

Purple eyes fixed on him. "Two out of three," Marik repeated.

"Fine, fine," Bakura smirked, "just make sure you're ready to get your ass handed to you once more."

"We'll see, kitty." Marik popped the change into the DDR machine, setting the song selection to random. "Remember, winner gets uninterrupted time with Ryou."

"Of course." Bakura shifted his weight more comfortably as he prepared to make the appropriate steps on the mat. "I hope you have something in mind to do while I'm enjoying my time with Ryou."

"I could say the same, kitty."

The two moved swiftly, legs shifting and sliding across the platform as they pressed corresponding arrows to those shown on the screen. Marik was good, but to any observer it was obvious who the victor would be. Marik was quick and accurate, but his movements lacked the finesse and agility Bakura had fine tuned through years of thievery and hiding amongst shadows.

Marik's performance was also impeded by the fact that with every shimmy of Bakura's hips, he found his gaze inevitably drawn to the smooth line of that lithe frame. The frame of the man who'd managed to meet him at every turn in their little contest. Just as he had in Battle City, and just as Marik knew he would continue to do in the future. At that moment, Marik found himself wondering, and liked the thoughts that came with it.

Meanwhile Bakura didn't notice Marik's heavy stare, absorbed in the mat beneath his feet and the instructions on screen. His lips lifted in what wasn't a smirk, a grin, or a scowl, but a smile. A smile that proved just how much fun he was having playing this game with Marik—both the one they currently waged in this little arcade, and the one over Ryou. Bakura also began wondering, and he, too, liked the thoughts that wondering produced.

Bakura laughed as the song came to an end, going so far as to give a little twist on the last note.

"That's two Marik, and my win," he purred victoriously.

"So it is," the other acknowledged.

Crossing his arms, Bakura stepped down from the platform. "Well then, let's be going. I think I'd like to cash in on that alone time as soon as possible…" Bakura trailed as he looked down the game isles and around the DDR machine. "Marik, where is Ryou?"

Marik frowned, taking the time to look around as well. "Why, Bakura," Marik gave a harsh bark of laughter, "I think we got ditched!"

Clucking his tongue, Bakura walked toward the arcade entrance. "Damn. Let's go home Marik. That's the only place Ryou'd think to go on his own, anyway."

Marik followed, still laughing.

The walk home was uncharacteristically silent as both Marik and Bakura reflected on their recent discoveries.

Closing his eyes briefly, Bakura broke the quiet as he asked, "Why do you like Ryou, anyway?"

Raising a brow at the spur of the moment inquiry, Marik shrugged. "I just do." Noticing the scowl Bakura made at his answer, Marik snickered. "Alright, so there's more to it than that." Crossing his arms behind his head, Marik looked upward to a lazily drifting cloud as he contemplated his answer. "I suppose," he began, "it's because when I first came back to this world, he was the only one who would vouch for me. Everyone else…" Marik paused, a dark expression slipping over his features for a quick moment. "Well, you remember."

Yes, Bakura thought. He did remember. He'd been one of the people who'd wanted to push Marik right back into the Shadow Realm.

Feeling the heavy atmosphere that had settled, Marik tossed Bakura's question back. "What about you, then? You haven't exactly been kind to Ryou in the past."

The pause in Bakura's step was less than a second, but it didn't escape Marik's notice. The thief turned his head away, and Marik wondered if Bakura wasn't going to answer.

Finally, Bakura's voice came as they rounded the corner.

"Ryou…Ryou forgave me." Bakura wouldn't look at him. "I hated him for the longest time. I lost everything. My home, my family. I was haunted by them, unable to be at peace until I'd claimed vengeance in their name. But Ryou…" Bakura closed his eyes and sighed. "He has also lost. His sister, his mother…and even though his father is not dead, he may as well be just as gone.

"I hated him. He had so much taken, and at first was so lonely, but he was never bitter. He was such a kind boy. How was he able to become such a good person, where I had become so vile? Then, at the end of it all and I got a body, he forgave me. He offered me a home. Peace." Bakura shot fierce eyes at Marik. "I accepted."

Marik's gaze was dark on Bakura's face. "I see."

"You understand why I can't lose?"Bakura stopped walking.

"Indeed," Marik sang, lowering his arms as a sensual, secretive smile slipped onto his lips. "Or course, there is a way that neither of us would have to lose."

Marik could see the thoughts shifting in Bakura's eyes. One more push should get the point across. Slowly, so that Bakura could see his movements, Marik placed his hand on Bakura's shoulder, sliding it slowly down to wrap around the thief's waist. "In fact," he skimmed his nails up the base of Bakura's spine, "I think we could both win…with interest."

Marik knew the instant Bakura understood his meaning. Those dark, dark eyes lidded and lips curled back over gleaming teeth. "Really Marik," he drawled, "it's not like you to be so subtle." Bakura laughed. "A triumvirate. How interesting."

"I take it you're in agreement?" Marik spread his fingers on Bakura's back, pinkie dipping just below his waistband.

"I'd have to be crazy to accept such an offer," Bakura said, fingers trailing up Marik's neck. "Good thing I am."

Bakura pulled Marik's lips to his in a bruising kiss, and no more was said.

Ryou was careful as he chopped the lettuce for dinner. He wondered how things had progressed after he left. He hoped Marik and Bakura had worked out that tension between them. Perhaps, they'd even managed to take care of that obvious sexual tension.

He nearly jolted at the lurch his heart gave at the thought.

Ryou's hand slowly came to a stop on the cutting board, face set into a picture of apathy.

Ryou liked to think he was a smart boy. He liked to think he could understand the reasons behind the things Bakura did. And, in truth, he was, and usually, he could. He could now say the same for Marik.

Therefore it hadn't been hard for him to notice how well suited they were to each other. Like to halves to one psychotic soul. He knew they could work well together.

Yet, knowing that, why did his heart hurt so much, his head pound so hard, and his throat close so tight? Ryou let the knife fall to the cutting board, bending so he could bury his face in his hands. Why did he feel like he was going to cry?

Ryou liked to think he was a smart boy.

"Why so sad, Ryou-chan?"

Ryou jumped as strong, bronze arms locked him in Marik's embrace, sinful lips nipping at his neck. "M-Marik!"

"Careful, Marik," Bakura slipped between Ryou and the counter, easily fitting his hands between Ryou's back and Marik's chest, "it wouldn't do to overwhelm him so early in."

"It's like you said Bakura," Marik pressed his canines gently to the junction of neck and shoulder, "I don't do subtle very well."

"What? I don't understand," Ryou whimpered as Bakura's tongue flicked on his Adam's apple.

"Oh, whimpers already," Marik exclaimed gleefully. "So responsive, we should have started working together on this sooner, kitty."

"Not a kitty," Bakura murmured, somewhat resigned. "Hush, Ryou. Just be quiet, and enjoy. I assure you, you'll understand everything soon."

So Ryou stopped complaining (because really, who was he trying to fool struggling against them? Not like he didn't want it in the first place) and soon after, understood exactly what was going on.

Just like Bakura said.

Looking back, Ryou had to admit that he'd been completely oblivious to Bakura and Marik's advances. Even now, he had issues telling when a hug became a grope (though he had discovered that that line could be affirmed as definitely crossed once tongue came into play).

What they had wasn't love, and that was okay. Because it was definitely something, and for now that was enough. They'd have time for love later, when all the cards had been played and the dust had settled in this newfound relationship.

Ryou chuckled as Bakura flicked whipped cream from his dessert onto Marik's face, no longer fearing terrible retribution for the act. Marik retaliated with a slice of cake to Bakura's guffawing maw.

Smiling, Ryou subtly slid the can of whipped cream from underneath the table, inconspicuously aiming for Marik's wide smirk.

Things were definitely interesting in the Bakura household.

The End

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.

~Khalil Gibran

Thanks for reading! Please review!