A/N: After submitting "White-Gold", I realized that I had tons of stuff about the Bakuras uploaded, but I hadn't written anything remotely puzzleshippy since "Shining Things". So I banged this out. ...Aaaaand it is 100% fluff. What's with all the fluff recently?

Disclaimer: If I'd owned it, the whole freaking series would have been one giant Millennium World arc.

Statement

"Pssst! Yuugi!"

Yuugi flopped out of bed. He stumbled over to the window, in the process knocking over his nightstand, tripping over the PS3 controllers he'd left lying out, and smashing his toe against the wall. He flipped up his blinds and leaned against the window until it popped open.

Yami was standing under his window, holding a handful of pebbles. Yuugi blinked blearily at the crack one of those pebbles had put in the glass. Then he sighed and leaned out.

"Yamiiiii.... It's one in the morning...."

"I know. I know. I apologize. But I - I couldn't go out earlier."

Yuugi rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Yeah, where were you this afternoon? I told you Jonouchi and Honda and Bakura and Ryou were coming over to do Guitar Hero, you said you'd come."

Instead of replying, Yami pulled his hat lower down over his face. "There was an emergency," he said finally.

Yuugi pulled his hand away from his face, eyes widening in alarm. "An emer- Are you okay? Here, come in - I'll get you some tea or something -!" He ignored Yami's protest and made his way to the bedroom door. By the time he'd navigated the stairs in the dark and entered the game shop, Yami had already punched in the security code - he'd known it since they were eight - and was leaning on the counter.

"So are you hurt?" Yuugi demanded, grabbing his friend's wrist and pulling him towards the back door that led into the kitchen. "And don't do the thing like when you broke your arm and kept telling me it was just twingeing. Tell me, okay?" He snapped on the light.

Yami sighed, seating himself at the table. "I'm not hurt. It's not that kind of emergency. It's stupid. I'm sorry for waking you up."

Yuugi's brow furrowed as he dragged the kettle out from under the sink. "It is not stupid," he said patiently. "If it was, you wouldn't have come here in the middle of the night. And no way would you have missed out on four hours of beating Bakura at video games. So spill."

"You're spilling the water."

"Geh." Yuugi took the paper towel Yami ripped off for him. "So...?"

Yuugi couldn't be sure in such dim light, but Yami's face looked distinctly pink. "It is stupid," he insisted. "I just.... You're the only one I felt like I could ask about it, and I didn't want to wait until tomorrow because I don't want to miss school.... Thank you." He took the mug Yuugi poked at him, and ran a finger around the rim a dozen times before heaving a sigh and slamming his hand flat onto the table. "Don't laugh."

"Cross my heart and hope to -"

Yami pulled off his hat.

"- dieeeeee.... Uh."

"...Yeah."

Yuugi bit down on his bottom lip. He very carefully poured hot water into both mugs, handed Yami a teabag, and steeped his own tea before responding. "...It's really not so bad, Yami."

That was not the right thing to say. Yami sank both hands into his hair, grimacing. "Not so bad?! Yuugi, you're very kind and all, but your face when you saw this -! It certainly is 'that bad'!"

Yesterday, Yami's hair had been black, straight, and usually tied loosely back at the nape of his neck. Now, it was a truly alarming two-foot-high arrangement of spikes and waves - stiff, multicolored, and lethal-looking. Yuugi had to admit, it was... pretty bad. He tentatively prodded the bleached locks that fell over Yami's forehead; they crackled when he poked them, but did not change shape. "Wow. Why did you... uh, get this done?"

"I just wanted a haircut!" Yami replied in a strangled voice. "I went to that new salon because Anzu swore on the honor of KaibaCorp milk that they were the best, and all I asked for was a trim, and then that insane hairdresser suggested I get highlights, and I agreed, and next thing I knew she was trying to appease vengeful echidna spirits by offering my hair as a virgin sacrifice -" He breathed in and out slowly, baring his teeth. "That is to say," he said tightly, "I was the victim of an overly-artistic barber."

Yuugi continued petting the spikes. "I didn't realize your hair was long enough to make these so tall."

"The frightening thing is, it wasn't."

"...Hmm."

"Mm-hm."

There was a pause. Yuugi sipped his tea.

"Gods, I'll just have to go somewhere else and get them to chop it all off," Yami sighed, putting his face in his hands. "I tried to get the salon to do it, but the barber insisted that I not be allowed to 'reverse the forward-flow of futuristic fashion'. I just pray I can avoid Bakura or Kaiba until I can have it fixed."

"Y'know, it's... startling, but it's not ugly," Yuugi ventured. He was rewarded with a grunt. "Seriously, the gold frames your face really nicely. And the spikes'll make you look a lot taller."

"Thank. You. Very much."

Yuugi frowned and switched to rubbing the back of Yami's neck. Yami wasn't vain, exactly, but he'd always been very particular about the way he looked. He was the only person in Yuugi's class, for example, who made his own eyeliner - out of actual kohl, no less. Having his hair messed with wasn't the end of the world, and Yami knew it, but... well, some pampering was in order.

He traced his nails over the ridges of Yami's spine, thinking. He had the beginnings of an idea. "So when do you plan to get it dyed back?" he asked carefully.

"Tomorrow, if I can get an appointment. It will have to be in the evening, when there aren't many people around," Yami said into his hands. "Gods damn it, I'll have to miss school," he added sourly. "Kiss perfect attendance goodbye... aaand that'll land Malik as valedictorian."

Yuugi chuckled. "That still makes no sense to me whatsoever - I would've thought it'd be Kaiba...."

"Yes, well, geniuses are often mentally unstable. Or socially inept. Or have terrible grooming habits." Yami rubbed his forehead. "...That was rude of me. I'm in a bad mood, I suppose. I'm sorry. This was stupid of me."

"Yamiiiii, we've been doing stupid things together since we were three. Don't worry about it." Yuugi smiled and gave his friend a playful slap on the back of the neck. "D'you want your tea? Feel any better after spilling your guts?"

"I do, a little. And no, you drink it." Yuugi obliged. Yami gave him a tired smile as he gulped the tea and ruffled Yuugi's own mop of black curls. "Thank you for putting up with my late-night angst-session, Yuugi. I am sorry for bothering you."

"I said don't worry about it." Yuugi took the mugs over to the sink. "It is late, though. You should try to get some sleep."

"Assuming my head doesn't poke holes in my pillow." Yami jammed his hat back over his head, trying unsuccessfully to stuff all the hair under it. He managed all the spikes, but ended up with the bleached bangs sticking straight out from his forehead like thick gold antennae. "...That's the best I'll do, isn't it?"

"Unfortunately, I'm gonna have to agree." Yuugi yawned as he walked Yami to the door. "D'you want me to come over tomorrow after school? I can walk you to the hairdresser."

"If you're all right with that."

"Sure thing!" Yuugi smiled fondly as Yami punched in the code again and wrestled the heavy door open. "But, y'know...." he added softly, "I was telling the truth. It's not ugly. And the gold-and-red thing kinda suits you. I could get used to it."

Yami paused. He flicked a chunk of gold out of his eyes. "...Bakura would never let me hear the end of it."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just rambling. You sure you're okay with skipping school?"

Yami grumbled, sighed, and gave Yuugi a meaningful look from beneath the brim of his hat. "I'm not skipping school, am I?"

"Er...." Yuugi tilted his head, rubbing his chin. "Well, when I factor in your lifelong goal of being valedictorian, your crush on our English teacher, your obsession with beating Malik in everything -"

"I got over Mr. Matthews in freshman year, Yuugi, and I'm not obsessed with -"

"Yes you are - And your sense of honor, I would have to say... you'll be at school." He grinned up at Yami. "See you tomorrow morning. Try to keep a stiff upper lip."

"Augh, don't imitate Bakura...." Yami sighed again, resettled his hat on his head, and slipped out the door. "See you tomorrow. I promise not to use you as a shield to hide my hideousness from the general public."

Yuugi waved until his friend vanished into the late-night gloom. Then he ran his fingers through his curls, pulled one down to examine it cross-eyed, and frowned at it. "Right," he said to himself. "Let's get this show on the road."

He crept upstairs to the bathroom and shut the door.

Yuugi stood under Yami's window, debating whether he should take a page out of his friend's book and start chucking pebbles. He'd yelled twice already, but Yami still hadn't emerged. "Atemaru Yamino, come on! We're gonna be late!" he called again. "C'mon, you don't want Malik to be the one giving the pretentious speech at graduation, do you?"

He heard clattering. Yami finally slammed open his apartment door and started clomping down the stairs. He was fiddling with the bleached bangs - even from the sidewalk, Yuugi could see the gel gumming them up - but they still refused to lie flat. Apparently, he'd also tried pulling all his hair back like he normally did, but had only succeeding in getting two of the spikes to meld together, and now had one giant spike pointing straight out from the back of his head.

"I give up," he said as he reached the bottom step. "This is hopeless. I'll just have to -" As he spoke, he finally looked up from his bangs.

Yuugi snapped a cell-phone photo of his expression.

Yami dropped his bag. Pencils and trading cards exploded over Yuugi's sneakers while he laughed. "Okay, I see what you meant about my face last night. That was the best 'ohmigod' look I've ever seen."

"You - You - Yuugi, you -" Yami seemed dangerously close to choking. "What - did - you - do?!"

"Oh, I employed some bleach, some henna, some scissors, some straighter action, a mushroom cloud of hairspray...."

"Why?!"

"Because you really look fine," Yuugi said, kneeling to pick up the contents of Yami's bag, "and you were worried about going to school, and it seemed like fun. Besides, now people will look at us and think, 'Wow, the short one did a really bad job imitating that guy's futuristic fashion statement'."

Yami's expression finally changed at that; he scowled and knelt too. "Don't say - Yours is fine."

"Nah, I look hideous. Like I said, though, you pull it off."

"Yuugi, don't be ridiculous. The red sets off your eyes."

"The gold makes you look tan."

"Well, I swear you look fine. You look good."

Yuugi picked up the last ballpoint and clapped it into Yami's hand, beaming. "Fine. In that case, let us agree that we both look good. No noooo, don't you shake your head at me. Just swallow your pride and admit we're exhibiting a totally cutting-edge hairstyle that will take Domino High School by storm."

"...Word-for-word?"

"I would say yes, but we really are going to be late." Yuugi held up his phone. "Class starts in eight minutes."

Yami swore under his breath, snapped his bag shut, and grabbed Yuugi's hand. "We can make it if we run."

"Not if our hair induces severe drag."

"Gahhhh -!" Yami started to sprint down the street, towing Yuugi behind him. The back of his head nearly stabbed Yuugi in the face, and Yuugi's bangs were getting mousse in his eyes, and his scalp itched, and there was no way they were going to get halfway across town in eight minutes.

But they were both laughing, and he was holding Yami's hand - and that was more than enough.

D'awww. Puzzleshipping feels so sweet and wholesome! Despite that fact that it's, y'know, a teenage boy and the three-thousand-year-old dead guy who inhabits his body. ...Maybe it just feels wholesome because I'm so used to tendershipping....

Review? Please? I am ill today, reviews would make my sore throat feel loads better.... ::wiggles eyebrows meaningfully::