"Bakuraaaa?"

Marik was calling from the kitchen. Bakura had been on his computer listening to music for about an hour already.

"What?" He moved one headphone from his ear and did nothing to hide his annoyance.

"Bakura come help me, I'm stuck!"

"Marik, I'm busy! Can't you just google a cheat code or something?" Bakura didn't know what game Marik was stuck on, or what level, but frankly, he didn't care.

"No, It's not a game! My hand is stuck!"

Bakura sighed. What had Marik done now? He took his headphones off and put them on the desk. Annoyed, he walked to the kitchen.

What he saw was not what he had expected, the scene was so comical that he forgot about being annoyed and burst out laughing. Marik looked up on him from underneath his blonde locks, looking so sad and helpless.

"Marik-" He said, hardly able to contain his laughter.

"Don't laugh at me!" Marik pleaded. "I need help!"

Bakura ignored Marik's request. "How the hell did you even do that?"

Marik tried to hopelessly drag his hand from out of the peanut butter jar. "Who cares! I need help!" He exclaimed, throwing one of his arms up desperately and then letting it hang down by his side, jar on his hand. Bakura was laughing so hard, his eyes were red and tears were forming in the corners of his eyes.

"Bakura! Help me..!"

"Why should I?" Bakura smirked in amusement.

"I will kill you with my peanut butter hand powers if you don't help me!"

"Oh stop complaining, come here" Bakura sighed, Marik shifted over to Bakura.

"Let me look at it?" Bakura's voice was strangely motherly. Marik held up his arm, the grin on his face wide as Bakura held his arm.

"Tell me, did you do this because you were bored and wanted my attention?" The albino said suddenly.

"No!" Marik blushed slightly.

Bakura smirked, raising one eyebrow.

"I swear I didn't!" His voice raised in pitch as he denied the allegations.

"It's fine Marik, I know I'm irresistible."

Marik's cheeks were burning and he was praying that Bakura wouldn't look up from his current task. His heart was pumping and he forced his breath to remain calm. Oh lord. His face was so close to Marik's. The Egyptian felt dizzy. He bit his lip hard, trying to get his feet back on to the ground and focus on reality. Focusing on the ground.

He had no idea how long he'd been looking at Bakura, but he knew it was too long and he had to think of something stupid to say before it was too late. Anything. He had to break the stare because he was looking at Bakura because he would know and fuck-

He thought he saw Bakura looking down at his lips. It's only your imagination, He doesn't like you and you need to calm the frigg down!. Act normal. Think of something funny, think of something funny, for gods sake think of something to say! he was commanding his brain. But he could swear Bakura was moving closer to him and he could swear Bakura was looking at his lips: he could feel Bakura's breath against his own.

"I-" Marik tried, he had to say something, do something, before he ruined all of this. Ruined the safety he'd built. Ruin the act and spoil the illusion.

Bakura's face was for sure close to his own now.

Marik opened his mouth to speak, his eyes closed now because Bakura was too close and this wasn't happening.

Marik felt something faintly touch against his upper lip. Something warm. He couldn't think.

He was frozen in place, unable to move, his mouth still open and he would have said something if the English language wasn't evading him and- Bakura breathed out quickly before pressing his lips against Marik's. The blonde couldn't think and he didn't know what to do but he didn't have to, because his body was acting for him, on instinct. The thousand times he'd imagined this. The thousand times he'd pushed the thought away and now… Well Bakura's lips were dancing against his own and he was pressing himself against Marik. Bakura put his hand against Marik's hip, spinning him around so that he was pressing against the counter. He felt the tip of Bakura's tongue on his lip and he opened his mouth to feel it meet his own. Bakura's hands were securely placed against his waist and as Marik reached up to do the same he hit Bakura's hip with the jar-

Reality washed over like a bucket of ice as he remembered that he was in the kitchen with a peanut butter jar stuck around his hand and he was making out with his partner-in-crime. He almost laughed at the bizarrity of it all.

His stomach dropped for a second, expecting the other to tell him this was all a joke or maybe a test and that he was going to leave the apartment and never come back. He felt the panic spreading in his entire body, ice pumping from his heart into his veins.

The second of panic was interrupted as Bakura snorted with familiar laughter, burying his forehead in Marik's neck.. Relief flushed over Marik and he laughed along. Bakura hadn't let go of him, one hand resting on Marik's hip, the other one on his shoulder.

He didn't know how long they'd been standing there laughing, but felt like a lifetime. Every time they'd stopped laughing, one of them had started again.

"Alright, let's get this thing off of you."

Bakura examined the jar again, biting his lip with a stern expression. He seemed to be thinking so hard, eyebrows in deep lines, stroking his chin.

"And how are we going to do that, Fluffy?" The sarcasm in Marik's voice was striking as Bakura winced at the nickname.

"Have you tried pulling it?" He asked, brushing the use of the nickname 'Fluffy' off.

"Do you actually think I would have bothered you if I hadn't tried that?"

"Well, it seems as if there were other reasons why you'd want me here." Marik choked on his own spit, coughing loudly as he felt his face burning.

"Alright, you hold on with your other hand and while I pull, okay?" Bakura said, the affectionate tone back in his voice.

Said and done, Bakura placed his hands around the nearly empty jar, and Marik steadied his feet against the floor. This was a difficult task provided recent events. He put his left foot forward, and pulled his elbow towards his chest.

"Okay."

"Okay, three, two one." Bakura pulled hard, scrunching his face. He solidified his grip around the jar, grabbing the opening, pulling with all his force.

"Aow! Stop, stop, stop!" Marik screamed, jerking backwards as Bakura let go.

"Well, do you want the bloody jar off or n-"

"We're just gonna need another strategy."

Bakura looked down at Marik's hand, which was turning alarmingly red as the knuckles grew whiter.

"Another strategy.."

He looked down at the jar, and back up at Marik, he had to think of something. Something to get Marik to shut up at least.

"I think we're gonna have to break it." He said, looking absolutely terrified.

"Marik, If you manage to get your hand stuck in a jar, how the hell are you gonna smash it without smashing your hand?"

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"Any that doesn't involve me having to clean up your blood from the walls while you're dying on the floor."

"I'm bleeding to death and your only concern is not having to clean up. Gee, thanks." Marik said, playfully kicking Bakura's shin.

"Well not my only concern, I'd have to clean up your body sooner or later as well." Bakura ducked away as Marik tried to hit him.

"How about we see what google says about this?" Bakura asked.

"What? 'My roommate has his hand stuck in a glass jar how can I remove it without having to clean his blood off our floor?' Yes, I'm sure there are hundreds of household website's concerning this!"

"I was going to type 'my roommate is in denial about his sexuality, although he obviously wants my attention and put a peanut butter jar on his hand so that I'd come and make out with him when he could have just come and asked'"

Marik stared at him blankly, in disbelief. Why was Bakura still here if he'd known all along? Marik had never been more confused in his life.

"When- How did you know?"

"Oh it's obvious, also I've been trying to send you signals for weeks."

"What? No you haven't!"

Bakura raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

"Remember like last week when we were watching Cannibal Holocaust and I put my arm around you?"

"So-"

"And remember when we were at the park and those chavs called us gay and I told them that there was nothing wrong with that? And how I asked you what it'd be like if we actually were?"

These were moments Marik had taken mental photographs and kept secretly stored in the back of his mind, and he couldn't believe Bakura remembered any of them. None the less tried to hint at him on purpose.

"Wow.. I-" He was trying to form a coherent sentence, but he couldn't make sense of what he wanted to ask.

"Bakura, I- Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Why didn't you tell me!?"

"I didn't know! You knew and didn't tell!"

"I couldn't just.." Bakura said, looking down, moving closer to Marik.

"Just.. what?"

Bakura leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on Marik's lips.

"You know.. do that."

Marik smiled, leaning in again, searching for Bakura's lips. Bakura met them quickly, but put a hand on Marik's chest, gently pushing him away. Marik's expression was that of a child who'd been robbed of their candy. Bakura suppressed a smile as he spoke.

"Marik, priorities. We should take care of the pressing issue on our hands first." Marik looked at Bakura as he spoke, laughing as he spotted Bakura's terrible joke.

"That was horrible."

"You laughed!"

"Did not!"

"You so did! Don't even try to deny it!"

Marik gave up.

"I'm gonna do it."

"Do what?"

"Smash it."

He stepped away from Bakura, extending his arm out towards the counter. He looked away, squeezing his face together as the glass hit the metal in a deafening crash. The jar exploded into two large pieces and a million tiny ones, and the moment in which Marik could spread his fingers out was the second best feeling he had ever experienced. It still couldn't compare to Bakura's lips against his own.
He looked at Bakura with a proud expression, before stepping over to the sink to wash the peanut butter off his hand. The water gave him back the sensation in his hand.

"Bakura, this is like having angels peeing on my hand."

"What a beautiful description."

Marik extended his arm towards the broom, to clean up the mess on the floor.

"Marik, your hand."

His eyes were fixed on Marik's hand which was dripping red. Three streams dripped along the palm of his hand, joining into a stream on his middle finger.

"Oh god. Oh god! I'm bleeding! It's bleeding! My hand!"

"I'm not blind, Marik. Erhh.. Hold it up into the air okay? We have some medical tape in the first aid kit don't we?"

He ran off to the bathroom before Marik could reply, and returned just as quickly with the green kit in his hand.

"Okay, let's not panic, this will be fine, we can do this, I'll help you." Bakura chanted, more to himself than to Marik really, placing the first aid kit on the floor.

"Bakura, calm down. It doesn't hurt that bad actually."

Bakura pulled out the pictographic manual, eyeing the description of what to do when someone is bleeding. Another time he would probably have commented on the awkward positions the people in the pictures were in, but he was rushing to replace the tea towel Marik was holding in his hand.

"Bakura, Just breathe, it's just a cut."

Marik sat down on the floor next to Bakura, who was still squatting. Bakura picked out a compress, determined to follow the description on the package showing to hold it and put pressure on the wound until it stopped bleeding.

He put his knees on the floor, one leg between Marik's in a position which must have been everything but comfortable, and opened the sterile packaging. Marik's hand would probably have stung, but Bakura's thigh was pressing against his own and his breath mixed with his own. Bakura shifted his weight and sat down, as far away from any glass as possible, grabbed Marik's hand with his own, touching it a little more than what was necessary. Marik rested his hand in Bakura's and he was entirely certain that Bakura's hand against his own was helping more than the compress between them.

After a while, Marik lifted the compress to see three tiny, yet fairly deep cuts where his hand becomes his wrist.

"You know something, I'm kind of glad that happened" Marik smiled looking at his wrist.

"Why?"

Marik couldn't tell whether he was genuinely asking or not, but he decided to answer anyway.

"Because my roommate is right about my sexuality and I got my hand stuck in a peanut butter jar so that he'd come and make out with me."