Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights go to their respective owners.
Where does he get them?
It was a beautiful day; the sun was shining, the birds were singing and Bakura was stuck sitting in a hedge outside the local hairdressers, with the village idiot, getting twigs tangled up in his hair and bitten in awkward places by small insects. To make matters worse, Marik was hogging the binoculars.
"What is it now?" Bakura asked wearily as his partner made an especially loud gasping noise.
"That woman has the same hairstyle as me! This is a hair disaster, quick fluffy, pass me one of the knives I know you are carrying." Marik said motioning furiously, all thoughts on their current mission forgotten.
Bakura rolled his eyes, reached into one of the bottomless pockets of his black trench coat and pulled out a small plastic spoon; it had a miniature millennium ring lovingly carved onto its handle.
"How the frigging hell am I supposed to fix my hair with that?" Marik shrieked, causing a passer by to drop their shopping in fright. Unfortunately for Bakura, the shopping contained a large bottle of coke that had already been pressurised, so that, when it hit the ground, the impact proved to be too much of a strain and a large volume of the fizzy drink was forcibly ejected straight into Bakura's face.
Ignoring Marik's sniggering, Bakura wiped off the worst of the sticky substance, snatched the binoculars out of Marik's unresisting hands and proceeded to glare moodily down them. His expression, however, rapidly changed when he spotted a smallish teenager, dressed entirely in tight fitting leather, leave the hair salon.
"Marik," Bakura hissed. "Marik, he's leaving."
"Quick Fluffy, to the Marik mobile!" Marik cried, leaping out of the hedge, only pausing briefly to check his appearance in a shop window. Bakura, sighing heavily, grudgingly followed him out and down the street.
The "Marik Mobile" was Marik's pet name for his beloved, if garishly decorated, motorbike. Painted entirely in lilac paint and lavishly adorned with golden tinsel it was the epitome of Marik's taste in design, and Marik loved it more than anything. On several occasions Bakura had woken up to an empty bed and gone down stairs only to find Marik in the garage lovingly stroking and whispering words of comfort to his bike because he was convinced it was lonely and needed him. If a bill was ever signed allowing men and inanimate objects to marry Marik would be down at the registry office before the ink had even dried.
"Hold me now Bakura"
"E-Excuse me?" Bakura spluttered, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink as Marik's rather shocking words jolted him out of his reverie. "I..I couldn't Marik, not in such a public place."
"What the frig are you going on about now Fluffy?"Marik huffed from the seat of his motorbike. "Hurry up and hold me around the waist so we can going or we might lose the Pharaoh."
"Yes, yes of course...the Pharaoh" Bakura mumbled, his face still burning with embarrassment as he climbed onto the seat behind his friend.
About an hour later, Bakura and Marik sat, eating ice cream on a bench, in a large shopping complex; Bakura's treat of course. Like normal, Marik had gone for triple chocolate, fudge brownie with extra hot chocolate sauce and sprinkles while Bakura simply had a plain vanilla cone. They were also in disguise, just in case the Pharaoh glanced in their direction, though this was unlikely as he was currently busy trying on collars in the local pet shop, much to the bewilderment of the shop staff.
"Please tell me again why I have to wear these ridiculous cat ears?" Bakura asked, keenly aware of the small group of women giggling and taking photos of him behind his back. To his increasing discomfort the group also seemed to be getting larger every minute.
"Because..." Marik said, finishing of his ice cream and wiping sauce residue from his large, fake moustache. "You would never normally wear kitty ears, the Pharaoh will never suspect that it's actually you, his brain will be so confused by the conflicting images that he will completely ignore us...or his head will explode. Oh, before I forget, there's one more thing necessary to complete your masterfully designed disguise."
"This is the most twisted reasoning I have ever had the misfortune to listen to and...wait a second...what the bloody hell is that?!"
"Honestly Fluffy, you can be so dense sometimes. I already told you, it's the last part of your costume." Marik huffed, holding up the most revolting item of clothing Bakura had ever seen. It was hot pink and sparkly, with a little bell and name tag attached. The word kitty was engraved on the tag. Somewhere behind them came a sudden intake of breath followed quickly by the sound of someone collapsing from blood loss.
Bakura shook his head vigorously, almost dislodging one of his ears. "Oh no, no way, I am not wearing a collar, especially not in public. Not now, not ever. No, no, no."
"Fluffy," Marik said in his sternest voice, placing his hands on his hips. "You will wear the collar or I'll tell everyone about your stuffed bunny collection and how you like to dress them in little outfits and have little tea parties."
Bakura sat glaring at Marik for over a minute before giving in and consenting to wear yet another of Marik's clothing catastrophes. "Sometimes I really hate you," Bakura growled when he realised there was a matching leash.
While the dastardly duo had been deep in conversation, the small group had swollen quite considerably and a few of the more daring members were stealthily creeping up behind the unsuspecting pair. The bravest one, egged on by a few of her cohorts, crept right up behind the bench, pulled out a pair of scissors and carefully snipped off a lock of Bakura's hair, placing it reverently in a sandwich bag. Spurred on by the success of her companion a second girl hastily scrawled a message on a scrap piece of paper, kissed it for good luck and slipped it into Bakura's back pocket.
"Marik, can we leave now? I really don't feel comfortable with those animals behind us," Bakura asked, the small note of pleading barely detectable in his voice.
"Don't be difficult kitty, we still haven't accomplished our super sneaky, super stealthy mission." Marik replied, intently staring, through eye holes he had cut out of a newspaper, at the Pharaoh who was currently engaged in, what seemed to be, a heated discussion with an energy drink salesman.
The problem seemed to have arisen when the unlucky vendor had offered the Pharaoh a free sample and the Egyptian had thrown the drink on the ground in disgust with a cry of, "What are you trying to do, poison me?"
"Please Marik, we can always sneak into his house later and find out that way. Let's go, before they- ARGH!" Bakura exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "One of them bloody touched me! Screw the plan, I'm leaving, I can just about stand the stupid bloody outfit but not if I have to be violated as well." He said, storming off with the sparkly lead dangling forlornly over his shoulder, ruining the picture of righteous indignation.
"I command you to stop, you're ruining the plan!" Marik called to the departing back of his friend. "Frigging hell, Bakura wait for me!" He shouted, sprinting off after the albino.
One eventful motorbike trip later, they were back home and Marik was busy pacing up and down the living room ranting to no one in particular. "Why does he always do this? Time and time again we try but he always thwarts even our most cunning of plans; like the time we filled his mattress with chocolate bars and replaced all the clothing in his wardrobe with female dance wear. He just ate the bars and wore the frigging leotard. He even looked better in it than I did. Stupid sexy Pharaoh."
"Marik..." Bakura interjected.
"What is it Fluffy, can't you see I'm a little busy plotting here?"
"Firstly, you aren't plotting you're just drivelling and, more importantly, for the love of god go and put some bloody trousers on, I'm sick of looking at that hideous purple thong of yours." Bakura growled, trying his hardest to ignore Marik's shapely buttocks by alphabetically organising their DVD collection.
"No, I will never wear another pair of trousers again, until I get a pair just like the Pharaoh's. Then we will finally be equals, only those trousers are holding me back in my quest to become the sexiest Yu-gi-oh character of all time." Marik protested as he bounced furiously on the sofa, managing to knock over Bakura's fresh mug of tea in the process.
"OK, fine. If it means that much to you, I guess we can always take a little trip to a certain game shop, just hurry up and put on some substitute trousers in the meantime."
"Yay, thank you Fluffy," Marik cried excitedly, flinging himself off the furniture and onto his partner's lap, causing the latter to blush deeply. "I'll go get changed while you grab the burglary kit," He said, rushing off in the direction of the bedroom, leaving Bakura alone and feeling somewhat dazed.
"Go, go sneaking, sneaking, it's super sneaky stealthy time," Marik sang tuneless to himself as he crawled to the back window of the game shop.
"Marik..."
"Silence Fluffy, any sound could alert the enemy to our presence," Marik hissed at his partner in crime.
"The back door's open," Bakura continued. Ignoring the hypocrisy, he gently swung the door open and slunk inside.
"No Fluffy, wait, it's too obvious, it has to be a trap."
Bakura sighed. "It's perfectly safe, the old man that lives here probably just forgot to lock up properly."
"They're just trying to lure you into a false sense of security,"
"Marik we really don't have time for this, do you want those bloody trousers or not?"
With his eyes darting back and forth, checking for any unnoticed danger, Marik finally stepped onto enemy territory.
The interior of the shop looked just like any other shop. Large shelves, crammed full of assorted merchandise, lined three of the walls. A large desk, occupying the other, acted as a check out point and a barrier protecting the more valuable items and a small door that lead to the rest of the building. Fortunately for the intruders, it was currently deserted.
Ninja like, Marik prowled the edges of the room, leaping from shadow to shadow so as to avoid being discovered by the building's inhabitants. Bakura simply walked straight across the room, around the desk and opened the door behind it, pocketing a few packs of children's trading cards in the process. Marik flinched, waiting for the siren that was bound to go off.
"Come on," Bakura said, when nothing came to devour them for daring to enter the Pharaohs abode.
Together, being cautious not to tread on creaky steps, they silently ascended into the unknown regions of the house.
After what felt like a lifetime, they finally made it to the Pharaohs room.
"Bloody hell, he's even more vain than you Marik," Bakura muttered, staring at the multitudes of self portraits lining the small room's walls.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking Fluffy?" Marik said, grinning evilly.
Bakura pulled two permanent markers from his pocket. "Of course."
Several minutes of frantic scribbling later, they stood back to admire their handiwork. The pictures were now utterly defiled, large obnoxious letters coupled with appropriately crude imagery adorned even the smallest of portrait, there was just one tiny problem with it...
"Get rid of that this instant," Bakura demanded at Marik, pointing to a string of numbers, on the largest photo, with the phrase "For a good time call," written in capital letters above.
"But Fluffy, it's part of another brilliant plan to fool the Pharaoh, for when he calls it, instead of getting a good time he will get you instead. Ha ha, it's fool proof."
Bakura folded his arms. "I don't care, I don't want that git to have my bloody phone number. Changes it to Kaiba's."
"Ugh ok, fine, though it's not like you use your phone anyway." Marik grumbled. Bakura's phone had been another of Marik's atrocious Christmas presents, it was small, square and bright, fluffy, orange with "Evil pals forever," written in plastic gems on the back. Bakura hated the mocking looks people gave him whenever he was forced to use it in public and the only reason why he still had it, rather than it being flung down the nearest public toilet- after all, no one in their right mind would buy such an object, was because it was a fairly useful device to have with him. Plus it really bugged Marik when Bakura didn't pick up his calls, and that alone was worth its weight in gold.
"Now, down to business," Marik said, once the corrections had been made. " Fluffy, you take the wardrobe and I'll go through the chest of drawers."
Bakura smirked. "You just want to rummage around with his Lordship's underwear."
"No I don't! You are the one who wants the underwear."
"Of course Marik," Bakura said mockingly while he rifled through the closet.
"Hey Fluffy, heads up," Marik cried, pinging a pair of leather y-fronts at Bakura's head.
"ARGH!" Bakura yelled and, in his desperation to avoid the projectile undergarment, fell into and knocked over a large lamp in the shape of the millennium puzzle. Both intruders froze in horror as it smashed into the floor.
"Is, is anyone there?" Called an elderly voice from downstairs.
"No, no one's here," Bakura hastily replied.
"Oh...good," The old man said and there was the sound of footsteps as he moved away from the bottom of the staircase. Bakura and Marik simultaneously released their breath.
"That was far to close," Bakura said in hushed tones. "Enough mucking around, we need to find those trousers now."
Eventually they found the precious leather trousers and scurried back to their home and, in a flurry of excitement, Marik tore off the pair he was wearing.
"For god's sake Marik. Couldn't it have waited until we got inside?" Bakura grumbled, picking up scraps of mangled clothing.
"No Fluffy, everyone must witness my glorious transformation." Marik said and tried struggle into his latest acquisition. "Frigging hell they're tight."
"They're not going to fit,"Bakura observed, enjoying the sight of the Egyptian squirming to get the tight leather on.
"No, no they will. They have to," Marik grunted, tugging even harder at the material, causing an unfortunate ripping sound. "ARGH, FRIG!"
"I hate to say it, but I told you so."
"Oh shut up Fluffy."
Bakura knelt down and took the broken trousers from his partner, leaving Marik sitting forlornly in the middle of their driveway in just a t-shirt and thong. "At least we can look at the label to find out where he got them from," He said, in an attempt to console the miserable Egyptian, before thoroughly examining the broken clothing. "Ah, Marik we have a problem..."
"What is it now?"
"The label's been ripped out, we have no way of identifying where these came from."
Marik tilted his head back and vented his fury to the sky. "CURSE YOU PHAROAH!"
In a nearby coffee shop, Atem finished the last few dregs of his drink and smiled happily to himself. He stretched contentedly, before stepping out into the street where a large, purple rubber duck fell from the heavens, hit him squarely on the head and knocked him unconscious.
A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it (^_^) (^_^)