This was written spontaneously in the YGOFF Contest forums to cheer people up, and also to show that yes, I can write crack. It takes place in the typical post-series AU, with solid!YB and solid!YM. Dedicated to all the other on the forum at the time I wrote this, who insisted that it was funny. xD Don't be emo, guys; it's American Thanksgiving!

Pairings: Heavily implied Conspireshipping (R/YB/YM/M), Thiefshipping (YB/M), Psychoshipping (YB/YM), and Angstshipping (R/M).

Dislciamer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

BE HAPPY [, YO]. SADNESS AND SELF-HATRED ARE TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE THINGS. :D

-Icosahedronal Target-

"I have something important to tell you," Bakura said as he stood in front of Ryou, Malik, and Yami no Malik, who were watching some movie that Yami no Malik had chosen. Ryou was holding the remote in his hand, looking ready to change the channel as screaming echoed through the room; Yami no Malik was eating an odd combination of salsa and popcorn; Malik was drinking a cup of orange juice and attempting to steal the popcorn while his yami wasn't looking.

"We all know you love me," Malik scoffed. "There's no need to clarify that."

"I don't love you!" Bakura protested instantly, before stopping short and stammering, "W-well, um—"

"Tell us," Yami no Malik said with false sincerity, his eyes glued to the screen.

There was a long, long pause punctuated by a squelching sound from the television speakers. "...I'm gay," Bakura said finally.

Malik choked on his orange juice; Yami no Malik continued dipping his popcorn in salsa as if nothing had happened.

Ryou snorted without looking away from the television and said, "Oh, you think?"

There was a moment of silence.

Then the tense atmosphere broke as Bakura made a dive for the remote, yelling, "You did notjust insult me—"

Ryou held the remote as far away from Bakura's grasp as he could get it, Malik ducking underneath his outstretched arm. "It's not like we weren't all thinking it already—"

Bakura spluttered in indignation. "I wasn't that obvious!"

Ryou rolled his eyes, leaning across Malik's back and extending the remote even further away. Bakura glared at him, lunging across the sofa and knocking Yami no Malik's salsa all over both their shirts, making the articles of clothing stick to their skin.

Ryou huffed, crossing his arms and muttering to Malik, "The way he's staring at your yami's chest isn't exactly subtle..."

Bakura flushed and forced his eyes away, glaring at Malik and grumbling, "Your turn, Ishtar."

"U-Uh, I'm not one hundred percent gay or anything," Malik stammered as Ryou and Bakura, his mood improved, gave him amused looks. "Only maybe... sixty percent."

"Midriff-baring tank tops," Ryou pointed out slowly.

Malik winced. "Okay... seventy percent."

"Lavender tank tops."

"S-seventy-five?"

"Phallic-shaped golden objects you keep tucked into your pants."

Bakura smirked, waving the salsa-splattered remote triumphantly in his hand. "You're in denial, Ishtar."

Malik, his face managing to flush darker despite the Egyptian tan, turned to Yami no Malik expectantly.

They waited.

And waited.

And—

"Why are you looking at me?"

"We're waiting for you to confess your sexual orientation, idiot," Bakura said, rolling his eyes. Salsa dripped from the remote and onto his jeans, staining them dark orange.

Yami no Malik reached for another handful of popcorn as a man on screen was torn apart by rabid giraffes, but then he abruptly paused and sniffed the air.

Ryou frowned at him. "What, are Bakura's pants going up in flames or something?"

Yami no Malik's eyes landed on Bakura's jeans, and he turned around, bent his head down, and began licking them where the salsa had fallen.

Much to Bakura's dismay (or perhaps pleasure), those areas fell dangerously near the crotch.

This went on for quite a while, Malik and Ryou watching dumbfounded.

"Well, there's our answer," Malik ventured at last.

"Your turn now, Ryou," Malik said after Yami no Malik had returned to his Homicidal Giraffes Show and Bakura's jeans were cleaner than they had ever been before.

Ryou blushed. "Uh, well—"

"Spit it out," Malik said, propping his chin up on his hands. "Straight... or gay?"

"... Fifty-fifty?" Ryou suggested weakly.

"Ooh, bi—haven't heard that before," Malik remarked at the same time that Bakura snorted, "You're about as straight as the Sennen Ring, Ryou."

"That's a circle," Yami no Malik offered unnecessarily.

"Shut up," Ryou mumbled, shoving Bakura to the other side of the sofa.

Instead, as Malik leaned to his left to grab something, they knocked each other over and sprawled over the cushions and onto the floor. Yami no Malik took this opportunity to dump the remainder of the salsa all over Malik's bare stomach.

"Go on, lick it off," Bakura smirked, nudging Ryou.

"We all know you want to," Yami no Malik agreed unhelpfully.

"We ran out of salsa," Yami no Malik stated matter-of-factly as Ryou hid his face in his hands and Malik sported an impeccable stomach.

"Thank God," Ryou mumbled, his voice muffled by his fingers.

"We've got another jar in the refrigerator," Bakura offered, a smile rapidly growing on his face. He disappeared with Yami no Malik through the kitchen door.

There was a pause. "I don't like where this is going," Malik remarked.

Ryou made a noise that might have been a "me neither."

Bakura and Yami no Malik emerged, wielding two jars—one salsa, the other some sort of spaghetti sauce. "Take off your shirts," Bakura advised.

"Otherwise, the laundry will become very unpleasant," Yami no Malik warned.

Malik and Ryou barely had time to do so before the two others opened their respective jars and poured the contents all over themselves, Malik, and Ryou.

"Lick it off," Bakura grinned.

And to everyone's surprise (but certainly not dismay), they did.

"You all smell like salsa and fettuccine sauce," Yugi told them the next morning, his voice surprised. "What happened?"

Ryou blushed; Malik developed a sudden interest in the hem of his (lavender, midriff-baring) shirt; Yami no Malik stared passively at the side of Yugi's head.

Bakura smirked. "Let's just say… Yugi, have you ever heard of the term foursome?"

"Oh, dear God," Yugi moaned during lunch to his extremely confused friends. "I think my brain is scarred."

The End

Endnotes: An icosahedron is a very compex 3D shape. A target (as in shooting) in the shape of an icosahedron would be completely missing the point (lame pun xD) of a target, much as the Conspire foursome sort of missed the serious purpose of Bakura's "I'm gay" confession.

Forum people, did you catch the rabid giraffe references? I put those in on purpose xD

(Non forum-people, ignore us and our weirdness. Then join the next season! :D)

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