One-Shot
The white-haired male sat on his couch, eyes skimming the all-too-familiar text of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
He loved this book, the way you can just loose yourself in it, get angry at a specific pink-clad villain, cheer for McGonagall, Harry, the rest.
Perhaps it was not his place, being a villain and all, but Harry he could stand.
The Pharaoh?
Well, he'd rant about that some other day.
There was a knock on the door.
"Bakura!" Came the white-haired male's partner in crime's voice, "I'm coming in!"
Bakura made no effort to move, knowing Marik would probably just knock down the door. (Wouldn't be the first time)
The lock turned, and Marik opened the door wide.
"Hello!" He said dramatically.
Marik was dressed appropriately for the late fall weather, with skinny jeans, a black top, brown jacket and bright yellow scarf.
He looked anything but straight, but Bakura decided it best not to elaborate on that.
"Where in Ra's name did you get a key?" Bakura demanded, looking up at the effeminate Egyptian through his eyelashes.
"Oh, that's right! You were drunk of your ass!" Marik started to laugh, but at Bakura's glare, cleared his throat and explained, "All you did was get me a key..." He said.
Bakura shrugged and returned to his book.
"Before you whine that you're hungry," He said, "there's plenty of food in the fridge."
"I wasn't going to." Marik said.
He sat down next to Bakura's arm and leaned over to read the book, too.
He felt dirty, contaminated, as though he were carrying some deadly germ, unworthy to sit on the Underground train back from the hospital with innocent, clean people whose minds and bodies were free of the taint of Voldemort . . . he had not merely seen the snake, he had been the snake, he knew it now . . .
A truly terrible thought then occurred to him, a memory bobbing to the surface of his mind, one that made his insides writhe and squirm like serpents.
What's he after, apart from followers?
"Ooooh!" Marik said, "That's dramatic!"
"Look, Ishtar." Bakura said, pulling the book from the reach of him, "If your goal is to annoy me, then it's working."
"If I'm annoying you, then we should go do something I want."
"That is the stupidest thought you've had yet."
"Aw, c'mon! I walked all the way over here, and it's cold! We should go get hot chocolate or something!"
Bakura looked up at Marik slyly from his book.
"Let's say I agree to do what you want. What will I get from this experience?"
Marik "hmm"ed as he thought.
"Well, you could either just take the time spent with me."
Bakura snorted, however appealing it was.
"Or," Marik said, leaning in close, "I could get you access to the museum, get a Steve to turn of the security."
"Sounds interesting." Bakura said, "You've a deal."
…
"Hey, maybe while we're out we can get info on Yugi and his friends!"
"Or!" Bakura said, exaggerating the word grandly, "We could just get this over with!"
"As much as I hate the phrasing of that, you're right. We should just... Just spend time together."
Bakura felt his cheeks grow hot, and it was probably obvious.
"Wh-what's that supposed to mean?" He demanded, sounding as flustered as he felt.
Get yourself together. You're supposed to be the King of Thieves, Lord of Darkness. Some teenager shouldn't make you flustered.
And yet, he did.
In 3000 years, he'd never met anyone quite like Marik, with his blond hair and eyeliner and motorcycles and the way just looking at him gave Bakura butterflies. Oh, he made Bakura want to tear his hair out, but at the same time he wanted him to kiss him and love him and-
Oh god, where was he going with this?
Feelings were stupid, he concluded.
But, he supposed he couldn't ignore them.
"You're staring at me..." Marik said quietly.
Bakura tore his eyes away.
"Sorry..." He said, "Lost in... Lost in thought."
"'Bout what?" Marik teased, nudging him.
"Oh, the usual. Murder and such."
"Seems lovely!"
"Quite!"
Marik laughed, and Bakura gave a light chuckle. The two smiled at each other for a second, before Marik tore his eyes away.
"Uh... Yeah. Here we are..."
They entered their usual coffee shop, ordering their drinks and sitting down.
"So..." Marik said, "What do you plan to do for Halloween?"
"Marik," Bakura said, "I don't do Halloween. It's just a stupid American holiday that gives girls a chance to dress up like skanks."
"Oh, well I was going to consider you going as Jack the Ripper, but okay."
Bakura looked at Marik through his eyelashes as he sipped his drink.
"Go on." He said.
"Yeah, just take an old chainsaw or something... Maybe Melvin's got one laying around somewhere, but yeah."
"Perhaps." Bakura said, "And what is it you plan to do?"
"Oh, I was going to go as Sailor Venus. Her hair is as gorgeous as mine!"
Bakura cleared his throat and did a valley girl accent,
"Like, omigod! You are so totally straight, girl!"
He then slumped back in his chair and wiggled his eyebrows at Marik, who was staring at him.
"I didn't know you could do that so well..." He said, "AND I AM NOT GAY!"
One of the cashiers looked over in disbelief.
"I am not starting this debate in public."
"You kinda did."
"Perhaps I did. Are you going to start a scene and have some girl put it on Tumblr that-" He cleared his throat and did the valley girl accent once more, "Like, omigod, this totes adorable gay couple was fighting in a coffee shop and I just wanted to hug them 'cause like,-"
"You think we're adorable?"
"I-"
Bakura's face lit up.
"No, I think you're infuriating. I was simply saying-"
"That you totally have a crush on me!"
Marik said it way to loudly, and with the pointing, the entire restaurant turned to stare.
"I hate you." Bakura spat, grabbing his drink and storming out.
…
"Bakura!" Marik's voice came from the other side of the door, "C'mon! I'm sorry."
"Sorry that you embarrassed me in front of about 20 other strangers, oh, yeah. I was unaware that sorry changes everything!" Bakura shouted back from his position on the couch.
He lied on his back, arms crossed, glaring at the ceiling and just wanting to kill something.
But, if he did it to the extent that he was angry, every officer in Domino would be tracking him.
"I..." Marik said.
He did something Bakura didn't expect.
He started crying.
"P-please, 'Kura... I didn't mean to embarrass you... I just... I was trying to tease you. I didn't realize you actually..."
Bakura took a breath and stood, walking across the room to open the door.
Marik looked at him, nearly right in the eye due to the difference of only 1 and a half inches of difference in height.
He really had been crying.
Bakura put his hand on the side of Marik's face and wiped the tear with his thumb.
"I'm sorry..." Marik said again.
"It's alright." Bakura said, "It's alright."
Marik flopped himself onto Bakura's shoulder.
"Hey..." Bakura put his arms around Marik, "You okay?"
"N-no..." Marik answered, "If you'd done that to me I'd've been so mad... A-and..."
"Hey.." Bakura stroked Marik's hair, "It's okay... It doesn't matter. It's in the past."
Marik pulled back slowly and looked at him.
"You mean... You're not going to hold a grudge?"
"It was a little thing."
"Bakura, you've held a grudge against the Pharaoh for 3000 years."
"Yes, well, the Pharaoh is an asshole... That whole "Slavemas" thing was way out of line... But, uh... I guess..." He was blushing, and he knew it, "I guess you're different."
"How so?" Marik asked quietly.
Bakura led him through the door and closed it behind him.
"Well, for one thing, you don't obsess over leather." Marik laughed, "For another," He tilted his head, looking his partner in crime in the eyes. "you're... You. You don't care what anyone else thinks, you're kinda funny, actually, and gods, I don't even know if I can feel love, but... If these butterflies and stutters are what love is... Then Ra, I want more of it."
Marik smiled.
"Me too." He said, leaning in close.
Their lips touched and butterflies fluttered. Bakura's hand came up into Marik's hair, Marik's on his waist.
Bakura pulled back slightly and chuckled.
"Your lips taste like strawberries." He said.
"Yeah... Lip gloss."
"Gay."
Marik chuckled.
"Come 'ere."
Marik leaned Bakura down on the couch. Lips touched, hand swirled, shirts came off.
God, if this was what love was.
Bakura never wanted it to go away.