I have a oneshot! This is from the 'Prompt Exchange Challenge' forum by Unattainable Dreams and I had a lot of fun with this. I use two prompts, as shown below, and this is (as ever) thiefshipping. I hope you enjoy! – Jem

"Today had to be Thursday. [Character name] never could get the hang of Thursdays." (Kinda stolen from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) [Sent by TotallyUtterlySherlocked]

Write a fic that takes place entirely in either a closet or an elevator. [Unattainable Dreams]

NB: Because I am British I call an 'elevator' a 'lift'. Just so I don't confuse you Americans out there :P

Today had to be Thursday. Bakura never could get the hang of Thursdays. In his childhood home, three thousand years ago, they had operated under an entirely different system; each week consisted of ten days in the official calendar, not that he had noticed much. He had lived alone in the desert and away from the confinement of human society.

Stretching with a low growl, Bakura waited for the doors of the lift to slide closed again and take him on up to the eighth floor. He had been in the Ring for a long time, letting his host go through the dull occurrences of daily life, but once in a while he felt the need to resurface and stretch his aching limbs, even if it did mean working Ryou's boring office job. Plus, he would get the joys of seeing his host's reaction to the memory loss whenever he next decided to let him out. The lift doors slid closed and Bakura leaned against the wall, glancing carelessly in the mirror. His hair stuck up wildly, his dark brown eyes burning, but he highly doubted anyone would notice such minute changes in Ryou's appearance. Besides, he was rather good at acting as his host.

The lift slowly started to move up and Bakura sighed, tugging irritably at the tie bound tight around his throat. He had let Ryou get dressed before he took over the body, but he was starting to believe that was a ridiculous idea; his host had the most awkward dress sense ever. His sense of propriety was insufferable. Bakura shook his long hair out, running his fingers through the tangled strands, before he coughed once into his hand. His fingers tapped irritably against the mirror.

The lift gave a cranking noise, several loud bangs, and then crunched to a halt.

Bakura arched a brow. Whilst his knowledge of the technology of this time was rather limited, he was fairly certain that lifts were not meant to do that. He growled. Glancing around, Bakura saw no outward sign of anything wrong … but the lift just looked like a big grey box, smelling metallic and lined with mirrors. It looked alright, but it wasn't going anywhere.

Bloody fantastic.

Bakura growled and strode into the centre of the lift, glaring up. The lights flickered worryingly above his head, sizzling with an odd sort of burning electricity that filled his borrowed nostrils with an unpleasant tang, until they hissed rather weakly and blinked out. The lift was plunged into darkness.

Bakura blinked. The darkness wasn't really an issue for him, thankfully – his many years in the Ring had accounted for that – but it cemented his suspicions that there was definitely something wrong with this lift. And he had absolutely no idea how to fix it. He pursed his lips, knuckles tapping irritably on the fragile glass of the mirror. He contemplated merely smashing a hole in the top of the lift and climbing his way out and up the shaft, but he wasn't entirely sure Ryou's pathetic body could handle that, never mind he might accidentally dislodge the lift and send himself toppling to a gory, smashed death. Bakura growled. Ryou, what the fuck do I do?

What? A distinctly sullen voice responded.

Bakura held back a chuckle. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and help me.

I don't see why I should.

Because it's your job on the line, idiot. Doesn't matter to me, but if you want to get fired...

A loud huff sounded inside Bakura's head. Fine. What's your problem?

Bakura grinned. The lift's stuck.

Then call the rescue number.

The what?

Ryou gave a loud, exasperated sigh. Let me back in control and I'll fix it.

I'm thinking ... no. Bakura stretched deliberately, shaking out his wild white hair. I'm not done stretching yet.

Ryou grumbled quietly before instructing: There's a small compartment beneath the buttons. Open it and find the phone. There'll be an emergency button to press.

Say that again, slowly. Bakura walked forwards and examined the rows of buttons with a crease in his brow.

Underneath the buttons. Do you see a little catch?

Yes.

Lift it. Some of the wall should come away. It's supposed to – don't freak out.

Bakura obeyed and lifted a brow when some of the metal fell away and clattered to the floor, landing on his foot.

Ouch! What did you do that for?

Don't be such a baby. What now?

Ryou huffed. There's a phone in there attached by a cord. Pull it out and press the emergency button. It will call the repair service.

Bakura grunted and pulled out the phone, turning it over in his palm. There was a big red button in the middle with some writing on it, which he assumed was what Ryou meant, so he pressed it.

Nothing happened.

You have to put it to your ear, Ryou explained patiently.

Bakura did so and almost jumped ten feet in the air when a voice echoed from the receiver. "Yes, lift 3b? Is there a problem?"

"Uh, yes," Bakura hastened, his voice gruff.

There was a small silence before the voice said impatiently, "Well? What is it?"

"It stopped moving."

"What did?"

"The lift, what the hell do you think?" Bakura snapped exasperatedly.

There was a loud sniff on the other end of the line. "Don't you get moody with me, young man. I'm trying to help you here."

Bakura laughed derisively. There were several things wrong with that statement, but perhaps the most delightful was the idea of him being called young.

"What were you doing when the lift stopped working?"

The haughty voice on the other end of the line pulled Bakura back to his current situation. He answered gruffly. "I was standing in the lift, waiting for it to move."

"Are you sure you did nothing to prevent it from moving yourself?"

"What the hell would I do – jump up and down and press all the buttons?" Bakura scoffed.

There was a sultry chuckle. "You'd be surprised what I've seen before. Are you alone in the lift?"

"Yes," Bakura growled, already getting frustrated with this guy. "Or I wouldn't be on the damn line talking to you."

"Oh, I'm hurt," laughed the voice before there was the sound of a slight clanking. "I'll be there in a few moments to get the lift moving again. What floor are you on?"

"I have no idea."

The other voice chuckled. "It says in big, lit-up red numbers above the buttons."

"The lights all turned off, smart-ass," Bakura snapped, hating the superior tone of the idiot he was talking to.

"Really?" The voice sounded faintly surprised. "The lights are all off?"

"That's what I said, fool."

The insult was allowed to slide in favour of a new question. "So how can you see?"

"My vision is good." Bakura growled after a moment's pause.

"So you can see in the dark? I'm sorry, I didn't realise you had radioactive powers, Mr Super Hero."

Bakura snarled. "Don't get sarcastic with me."

"Then don't tell me lies. What lights are on?"

"There aren't any," Bakura hissed. "I felt my way over to the phone. Satisfied?"

There was a small silence before the other person answered, "No, I'm not, actually. If the lights are out that means it's an electrical fault, and there's no way I'll get the lift started again."

Bakura growled. He really hoped that wasn't the case. Whilst the darkness truly didn't bother him, he didn't enjoy being cramped in a small lift with nothing but his own dull reflection for company. He hissed into the phone, "Well, you better have a way to fix it."

"Oh, so Mr Super Hero really does have a problem with the dark." The voice sounded faintly amused.

"The dark isn't the issue," Bakura muttered, jumping as he glanced around. There were strange rattling and clanking noises now, and they certainly didn't sound healthy. The lift was still locked in stasis, however.

The person on the other end of the line clicked their tongue, and then there was an irritated sigh. "Alright, I'm going to have to come get you. Sit tight."

"Wait, what?" Bakura spoke quickly. "You're not leaving, are you?"

There was a low chuckle. "Why, would you miss me?"

"No, of course not," Bakura snapped instantly. In truth, though, the voice on the other end of the line was a bit of a comfort in the dark, silent lift. The air was growing oppressive.

A snort sounded down the line. "Of course. Before you freak out, I'm going to stay on the line. I just have to get over to where you are, so give me a moment."

Bakura grunted, and the line clicked off. He shifted uncomfortably in the silence, glancing around the lift, his eyes easily picking through the darkness. His reflection blinked back at him from the mirrors, his every motion reflected. There was no sound other than deadly silence, filling his ears with an echoing roar and reminding him all too much of the confines of the Ring. He had taken over Ryou's body to escape small cramped dark spaces, not to discover more of them.

The silence seemed to stretch on for far too long before there was a click on the other end of the line again and that nasally voice was back. "Right, I'm here. You still with me?"

"Where exactly would I go?" Bakura snarled, though he noted with a slight frown that he was gripping the phone hard enough for Ryou's pale knuckles to turn red with strain.

"Well, you could have plummeted to your death," the other responded conversationally.

Bakura snarled. "Don't bandy words like that around."

"Alright, alright, don't freak out," chuckled the other person. "I'm stabilising you right now, don't worry. The lift won't drop." There was the sound of tapping of keys, quick and ferocious, as the man continued to speak. "I just have to locate you. You're quite a way up – fifth floor."

"I was heading for the eight," Bakura grumbled.

"Oh, office worker, are you?" The other asked breezily, still typing away.

Bakura held back a chuckle. "Something like that."

"You're not breaking in to wreak havoc, are you?" A golden laugh sounded down the phone. "Because I should probably just let you drop if you are."

"Don't even try it," Bakura threatened with a low growl.

There was another low chuckle before more tapping sounded. "Alright, I guess I would sort of lose my job if I let you fall to your death. I can't say I'm not tempted though."

"Make a habit of murdering strangers, do you?" Bakura growled in response, though his tone was laced with dark amusement that matched the teasing words of his conversation partner.

"Something like that," the other mimicked Bakura's words with a grin. "So you want to get to floor eight? I should be able to hoist you up there."

Bakura arched a brow. "How exactly do you plan to do that?"

"Oh, it's a fairly simple procedure," the other voice answered, and Bakura would have sworn the other was grinning. "Once I'm sure the lift isn't going to move, I'll winch myself up and come down and get you, pick you up, and take you up to the eighth floor."

Bakura smirked. "You think you can lift me?"

"Naturally. I'm stronger than I sound."

"Good, because you sound positively girlish." Bakura snorted, although his words were true. Whilst the other's voice was definitely male, it had the slightest hint of an accent and was nasally enough to imply femininity.

There was a low growl. "Don't push your luck."

"Or what?" Bakura grinned.

"Well, I am the guy who's going to rescue you."

Bakura growled. "You make me sound like a damn damsel in distress."

"Isn't that what you are?"

"Say that to my face. See how well it goes," Bakura threatened with a low hiss.

The other chuckled. "I highly doubt you could take me."

Bakura merely grunted. In truth, he shouldn't talk himself up too much; Ryou's body was puny and weak, and he had no idea what this other guy was like.

Another laugh sounded down the line.

"Just stop playing with me and get me out of here," Bakura growled in response.

"Playing? I was trying to flirt. Huh."

Bakura almost dropped the phone. He coughed down the receiver. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, nothing," sang the other.

Bakura chortled. He leaned against the wall of the lift and smirked, "If you're trying to flirt, you're failing miserably."

"Oh, well now, that is a shame." There was amusement lacing the other's tone. "Feel free to tell me what I'm doing wrong."

"Well, where to start?" Bakura was full-on grinning now. "Your timing could be better. You're meant to be rescuing me from a lift, and instead you're leaving me all alone in the dark."

"What am I supposed to do when someone has a dark sexy voice like yours?"

Bakura snorted. "Now you're just trying to flatter your way out of it."

"Hmm, maybe. Is it working?" The other grinned.

"Depends what you look like," Bakura shrugged.

"Oh, if its looks you're after, you will not be disappointed." There was flagrant arrogance in the other man's tone now."

"I think I'll be the judge of that."

"You'll get your chance. I'm coming down now." There was a sound of whirring, then a sort of click followed by a series of thumps.

"What are you doing, bringing the entire floor down with you?" Bakura scoffed.

"Hey. Don't insult the man about to rescue you."

"Oh, so you are a man then," Bakura responded with a grin.

To his surprise, the other only responded with a quiet laugh. "Once you've seen me, you'll be left in no doubt of my gender."

"If you say so," Bakura shrugged, though in reality he was now extremely curious to see what the other looked like now. The accent certainly implied that he wasn't from around here.

There was a slight chuckle, and now the other man's voice sounded a bit more strained, as if he was on the move. He panted slightly as he spoke. "How are you holding up in there? I imagine it's a bit dark without the lights."

"I'd be better if I was out of here," Bakura responded with a growl.

"Yes, well, I'm working on that." He sounded even more strained now.

Bakura grinned. "You're sounding a little out of breath there."

"Well, so would you if you were climbing down three floors on a winch."

"Is this you trying to flirt again?" Bakura chuckled. "Because that has to be one of the least attractive images ever."

The other muttered a curse, but it was in a different language. A language Bakura recognised.

He froze. "What did you say?"

"Something very rude," snapped the other.

"No, I know." Bakura repeated the curse in Ancient Egyptian, absolutely positive that was the language he had heard. Bakura slipped into his mother tongue as easily as breathing, the familiar sounds of Ancient Egyptian moulding in his mouth. "I had no idea someone in this time spoke the old tongue."

There was a crackling silence.

Eventually, the other spoke, and it was indeed in Ancient Egyptian. "How do you know this language?"

"It's my mother tongue," Bakura responded silkily.

"Impossible," the other instantly snapped. "There isn't anyone left who speaks it."

"You do," Bakura pointed out.

"Impossible." The other's voice had become a low hiss. He had apparently stopped moving, instead growling down the line. "How much do you know about Ancient Egypt?"

"...More than you," Bakura responded carefully. He realised, a little belatedly, that he should probably take more care with blowing Ryou's cover. He didn't know this man at all, and he couldn't trust him with his secrets. Even if part of him, crazily, wanted to.

There was a derisive snort. "I highly doubt that."

"Well what do you know about my – about Ancient Egypt?" Bakura bit back the word homeland at the last moment.

There was a pause before the other man answered. "Ok. I'm just going to say the words Millennium Items to you and see how you react."

Bakura went completely, utterly still. His thoughts automatically went straight to the Ring hanging around his neck, the vessel of his soul but of so much more. The Items were what held the souls of his family captive, and Bakura would not be drawn into conversation about them. A low, dangerous growl rumbled from his chest.

"...I'm going to take from that that you've heard of them," the other man responded smoothly. "In which case you and I need to talk. I'm in possession of one of them, you see."

"You're what?!" Bakura snarled, and all humour was gone from his tone.

"I have one." The other was speaking briskly now, and he was panting again, as if on the move.

Bakura growled. That couldn't be true. His Ring sensed the presence of other Items, and now it was lying cool and still against his chest. He hissed. "You're a liar. I can detect the presence of an Item."

"Well, obviously I don't have it with me," the other scoffed. "Who would be dumb enough to bring an Item to work?"

Bakura remained silent.

"But if you can detect them as you say, that puts you with ... the Ring?"

Bakura snapped. "You know nothing."

"The Ring it is." The other sounded smug now, and Bakura detested it. "And you speak native Egyptian. Well, now, that is interesting. You see, I highly doubt some little office worker from Japan would know about any of this, so I do wonder just who you are."

Bakura remained silent.

"I'm Marik Ishtar, if that helps loosen you up a little," the other said again, and now the voice had a name. Ishtar? It didn't ring a bell at all. Bakura was now itching to see just who this presumptuous little upstart was.

"Oh come on," Marik spoke, his voice light and teasing once again. "Surely I warrant a name at least?"

"Tell me all about your Item first," Bakura threatened.

Marik released another low chuckle. "No, you tell me your name first. But I'll tell you this for now – my sister also has an Item."

"Are you doing this deliberately?" Bakura demanded. "I can't refuse that when you're offering me two of the Items."

"I'm not offering them to you," Marik grinned down the line. There was a thump from right above his head and Bakura ducked, staring up with wide eyes as the lift shifted a bit. Marik chuckled, and it echoed down ghostly from above Bakura. "How about this. I'm about to come in and rescue you, and once you've seen me, you're going to want me to know your name."

Bakura smirked. "Very arrogant for someone who's stayed hidden for so long."

"Trust me," the voice sounded only from above Bakura's head now, the phone line clicking dead, "I have every reason to be confident in my appearance."

Bakura moved to the centre of the lift and planted his feet wide, smirking upwards at where he was sure Marik's feet were planted. "Then you had better get in here.

Bakura's only reply was a slight tugging screech of metal, and then a dancing flashlight appeared, attached to a lithe tall body. Bakura could clearly see through the darkness, though colours were washed out, but this male was certainly Egyptian. Marik jumped gracefully down from the top of the lift and landed cat-like on both feet in front of Bakura.

Bakura blinked and took the opportunity to size up the person before him. Marik was tall, taller than Ryou, and his eyes were narrowed with suspicion. He was young – younger than Bakura had assumed, for one with such a confident manner – but well, he hadn't been lying about his appearance. Marik looked like he could have just walked off a film set. Bakura leaned casually against one of the mirrors and watched with slight amusement as Marik stared around the lift, his flashlight blinking in Bakura's eyes.

Marik spoke first, and a smirk crossed his features. "Well, you look nothing like an Ancient Egyptian spirit."

Bakura arched a brow, answering smoothly in Egyptian, "Appearances can be deceiving, young-un."

A slow grin spread across Marik's lips. He tilted his head and folded his arms, eyeing Bakura closely. "Are you going to tell me your name yet? Or shall I just keep calling you Ancient Spirit?"

"Watch who you're calling Ancient," Bakura growled.

Marik arched a brow. "So?"

"I'm Bakura," he eventually responded with a hiss. "Now tell me of these Items."

"Well," Marik's head tilted, his eyes sparkling, and Bakura realised in the dim lamplight that they were a very unusual shade of violet. "First, I want to know a bit more about who you are."

Bakura hissed. "You're getting nothing from me, brat, until you tell me what Items you know of."

Marik half-smirked, his lithe body stretching. "The Rod and the Necklace. And I know where the Puzzle is, and the spirit it contains."

Bakura's eyes widened. He leaned forwards, his hands grasping forwards almost without meaning to as he walked forwards, backing Marik into a corner. "You know how to find the Pharaoh?"

Marik allowed himself to be pushed back until he his back hit the wall. His violet eyes were bright, his expression calculating but clear. "I do."

"You most take me to him," Bakura growled, his voice tight and strained. His hands caught Marik's arms, nails digging in almost painfully.

Marik didn't flinch. "Why are you so keen to find him?"

"I seek to destroy him." Bakura's words were uttered low, his tone heavy with intensity.

Silence held between them for a long moment before a slow smile spread its way across Marik' face. His hands lifted suddenly, grasping Bakura's forearms and holding him still. He grinned. "Then perhaps we can make a deal, after all."

Bakura smirked. "You might want to get me out of this lift first."

"But of course." Marik chuckled, reaching to his belt where the rope attached him safely to the top of the lift. He unclipped another one and motioned for Bakura to come close. "Just let me attach you and we can get out of here."

Bakura chuckled. "I knew you couldn't carry me."

"Don't push your luck, Bakura." His name sounded exotic on Marik's tongue. Bakura held back a slight shiver as he crossed to his side, allowing Marik to fasten the rope to Bakura's belt.

Marik wrapped an easy arm around Bakura's shoulders and reached up to tug the rope, allowing them to move on out. Before he got the chance, however, Bakura reached and caught his hand, turning them to face each other. Marik blinked in surprise. "Didn't you want to get out of here?"

"In a moment." Bakura's eyes were bright with new fire as he pulled Marik closer and pressed their lips together, just once, just to try it. He pulled back with sparkling eyes. "Every alliance should be sealed with a symbol, I once was told."

Marik blinked several times, staying still for a moment. Then that slow grin spread across his lips again, and his face shone even more attractively than it had thus far. "A kiss is your symbol of choice?"

"Are you complaining?"

"Far from it." Marik grinned and tugged once on the rope, allowing it to lift them both smoothly out of the lift. "In fact, I think I'll make many more alliances with you in the future."