Hi guys. It's been a long time that I ever posted, but this little story has been sitting on my computer for years so I decided to post it. Nothing special really.

M for violence and strong language.

Drunken Desire - Encounter

He downed the last remnants inside the bottle, tossing it off to the side swiftly with a flick of his wrist. He ignored the hazel eyes that were glaring daggers at his very being and instead brushed it off like one would dirt on their freshly compressed suit. The air was thick, so thick he was sure reaching out would slice through flesh.

"Don't ignore me."

Violet irises flicked up automatically at the demand, his eyes narrowing to slits at the authorize aura the other man presented. He placed both palms on the table and pushed up, his chair protesting as it brutally tumbled over with the sudden force. He made sure to keep eye contact, hell would go down if he dared break it. "Bakura." His voice was low, filled with nothing but venom. "What the hell do you want?" It wasn't a question but a demand. The other picked up on that easily.

"Not happy to see me?"

"Like hell."

The side of Bakura's lips turned up into a smirk, his arms held high in mock surrender "You jest fool, you cannot deceive me."

"You don't know me Bakura, don't act like you do." He crossed his arms over his chest and walked forward, being sure to keep space between their bodies. He reached back to grab two bottles off the counter and handed one out for the albino while he kept one for himself. He kept eye contact, trying and failing to read the others emotions. "How did you get here?"

Bakura's smirked widened at the question, his eyes sparkling mischievously "Well my friend, I axed your front door." He tilted his head, bottle raised towards his lips "So Marik, trying to avoid me?"

"Why wouldn't I? Your mere presence makes me sick. You are the scum of the earth, who wouldn't want to avoid your sorry ass?"

"Ouch." Bakura grasped at his chest in mock hurt and pouted. Well, he thought it was a pout. He expected that answer, and the smirk that presented itself on his lips spoke volumes. Deciding to test his boundaries, he took a step forward and entered the thin line that was drawn between their bodies. "No really, are you trying to flatter me?"

Marik instinctively took a step back as he watched his enemy approach, his head tilting to the side in repugnance at their close proximity. He desired to kill him, the urge to penetrate his flesh with a sharp blade and draw blood was almost too powerful to control. How could one guy insert such psychotic thoughts into his mind? He internally shook. Bakura; The only man that could make him feel... "Like I'd try and make that my goal. I despise you with an undying passion. Is that what you regard as flattery?"

"And what If I did?" The tone in which he spoke sent chills down Marik's spine. Bakura immediately noticed and decided to take advantage of their predicament. He inched closer; as close as he dared to venture, to watch Marik's emotions more thoroughly. It was a failed attempt, especially when those eyes snapped back to reality only to glare daggers at the one who invaded his personal space.

"Back off." His voice was low and daring, Bakura simply rolled his eyes and snorted. This only infuriated the blond further.

"Or what?"

"I'll slit your throat and use your blood as wall paint."

The albino placed the bottle towards his lips to disguise his ever-present smirk. God, he loved to tease and piss Marik off, he would make it a daily routine if he had the chance. Marik traveled frequently, so frequently that Bakura had no idea where he was staying half the time. It annoyed him greatly, that bastard thought he could escape him. Pfft. "And why does that mental image of your barbaric threat turn me on?" Bakura cocked an eyebrow and grinned. Well tried to, it appeared to be a leer more than anything.

Marik rubbed at his temples with his thumb and forefinger to rid himself of his headache that, unfortunately, arrived along with Bakura's violent interruption. Normally he would sit and play along with Bakura's idiotic ways, but he truly wasn't in the mood to do so. Maybe he'd be more civil and dignified if Bakura didn't axe his fucking front door as if he was trying to impersonate 'Freddy'.

"Because you are disgusting."

Bakura couldn't hold it in any longer. He threw his head back in a laugh that caused his stomach to ache, the corner of his eyes filling with tears of joy. This guy… He mused, taking note of Marik's posture faltering. "I like you, I like you alot…" He paused, eyes gleaming. "But, I also hate you. Oh dear Marik, how I hate you so, how I like you, it drives me crazy."

Marik didn't say a word and Bakura noticed, seemingly confused by the lack of response he received. He wasn't happy, not one bit. He wished for a reaction and he wasn't getting what he desired. Bakura pursed his lips, opting to continue. "I outstayed my welcome here I gu-"

Bakura was interrupted in his words as pain engulfed his left cheek. He stumbled backwards a few steps, instinctively cupping his stinging cheek with his palm, almost shocked. Before he could open his mouth, he was cut off. "I think I tried to tell you this from the start Bakura you god damn fool." Marik sighed and placed a hand to his forehead, his gaze towards the floor. "I was having a wonderful time here and you ruined it."

Bakura scoffed at that, he thought otherwise. "You looked like a broken guy pining over his divorce whilst downing alcohol, I came to save the day."

"Pfft."

"So what is it Marik?" He became serious, watching as his 'friend' made his way back to his desk and placed his head in his hands. "What's with the negativity bouncing off these walls?"

"My kitty ran away."

"..."

"Are you serious?" Bakura seemed flabbergasted. Honestly, he never expected that, at all.

"Can you help me find him?" He pleaded, looking hopeful.

Bakura didn't know what to say. One second the guy wanted to slit his throat and use his blood as home decoration, which pleased him so fucking much. The amount of times he fantasized about similar encounters with Marik happened to be too many times to count on both hands. But to have his fantasy crushed right in front of his eyes, for a kitty no less had him dumbfounded. Damnit. He inhaled deeply, hoping he would inhale enough that it would take him into a state of nothingness, or transport him through time so he could choose not to take the route to Marik's house.

"Damnit!" Bakura half groaned, half shouted. "Damn you Marik, damn you to hell!"

"Damn you too Bakura!" Marik rose from his chair. "If you have no intention of helping me then get out my house."

"I will help!" Bakura barked out, hating how his words tasted "But you owe me Marik, you owe me big time for this."

"Anything." Marik muttered, falling back into his chair with his arms crossed. He peered up to lock gazes with Bakura. "Anything you want, anything to save him."

Bakura seemed to spark up at the idea of 'anything', the thoughts of what he could do plagued his mind and excited him extremely. He didn't hide his smug smile and instead decided to get on with business. "So what's this furballs name?"

Marik instantly blushed, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture Bakura didn't quite understand the need for. Instead pressed on for an answer. "Baku-"

"Baku?" Bakura raised an eyebrow.

"-ra."

His blushed intensified to the point he felt uncomfortable. He wanted to escape and be left alone, tell Bakura to leave, but he needed help finding his kitty. Pride aside, he needed him back.

"Baku-ra." Bakura pronounced slowly, his eyes never leaving the tomato across the room. "You owe me Marik, oh god you owe me so fucking bad for this."

On that day Bakura felt like his pride and respect went out the window, but he knew for sure he would make Marik pay for what he lost.

He would pay, and Marik would enjoy it just as much as he did.

He was sure.