Chapter 1: The guest

Marik and Bakura sat together in the vacant room, looking everywhere but at each other. Outside, rain poured down and hit the window with excessive force. They kept "accidentally" hitting each others' legs with their feet, and they were trying extremely hard not to laugh. When Bakura finally looked over at Marik, he lost control and starting chuckling. Marik's face was wrought with frustration at not being able to pin Bakura's leg against his chair and then surprise when he realized Bakura was looking at him. Bakura leaned backwards in his chair and sank towards the floor, extremely entertained. Marik looked over at him as a smile slowly spread across his face, then set his head on the table and started to laugh uncontrollably. The two continued to playfully kick at each other under the table, most of the time missing due to the lack of concentration.

After a minute, Marik starting gasping for air and fell to the floor rolling. Bakura, seeing this, slammed the table with his hand and set his head down as a few tears of pure happiness fell from his eyes. After several minutes of this madness, Marik finally took one last gasp and pulled himself back to his feet, once again taking a seat in the tall wooden chair. He cleared his throat and with a quick glance at Bakura resumed staring at his empty wine glass. Bakura remained with his head on the table for quite some time, and Marik wondered if he had fallen asleep. He reached over and poked him lightly on the arm. Bakura's head snapped off the table and banged against the back of his chair. He reached for the back of his head and scowled at Marik, who shrugged and tried to look as innocent as possible. "Sorry," he forced out as he stood and walked over to his boyfriend. "I wasn't exactly expecting you to get a concussion from a simple poke," he said jokingly.

Bakura glared at him for a moment, then let out a long sigh and dropped his hands limply by the sides of his chair. Marik sat on the table in front of Bakura, positioning one leg on either side of him and took the limp hands into his own. He intertwined their fingers and started into his lover's deep, chestnut eyes. After a minute of getting no response, Marik lightly nudged his side with the toe of his shoe and leaned back onto his hands. Bakura blinked and glanced at Marik for a moment then looked away with nothing more than a slight smirk that faded after a minute.

Marik frowned and slipped his shoes off, continuing to prod at the dismal boy. He paused for a minute, then slipped his toes under the edge of his blue and white shirt, laying his feet flat on the boy's pale stomach and massaging his sides with his toes. At this point, Bakura jerked his hands back and attempted to pull down his shirt. "Stop!" he exclaimed. "Your feet are cold!" Marik smiled and slid his feet out from under the shirt, moving them up and over his shoulders then back down to waist level, pinning his passive friend's arms tightly to his sides.

However, Bakura could still move his legs. He smirked and swung them one at a time onto the table and attempted to pull the Egyptian's arms towards him off the table. At first he was unsuccessful, but after a while Marik was unable to dodge his attacks and Bakura pulled both arms towards him off the table. This caused Marik to fall backwards so that he was lying flat on his back across the table. He bent his knees so that his feet were laying flat on the table and sat up. Bakura reached forward and grabbed Marik's ankles a little too forcefully, yanking him forward completely off the table. The tan teen looked very shocked, then settled in and wrapped his legs around the pale teen's waist, pulling him extremely close.

Bakura's hands now rested on Marik's legs. He leaned in for a slow, passionate kiss and slid his hands up the Egyptian's back, feeling every detail in the fabric of his shirt. Marik draped his arms over Bakura's shoulders and let his hands hang there, toying with long strands of his snow-white hair. Bakura moved his hands to Marik's neck, deepening the kiss. They both heard a door slam from the first floor and someone with a strong accent yelling. They froze and slowly leaned away from each other, exchanging glances.

"Bloody hell, Henry! How many times do I have to tell you-" another door slammed, blocking the yelling out for a minute. "I need a new hideout! They're onto me. It won't be long 'til they find me and I can't go yet! I'm not done!" They heard footsteps outside and the jingling of some keys. Marik panicked and jumped off of Bakura's lap, falling onto the floor with a loud thump. Bakura put his head in his hand and leaned his elbow on the table. The jingling stopped and the person spoke again, this time without the accent, "Hello? Who's there?" The jingling resumed and the door slowly swung open revealing a tall, pale person dressed in all black. A cloak shadowed their face, and it was hard to tell whether it was a man or a woman, though the voice sounded fairly feminine. She put her keys in her back pocket and slowly moved hand hand to an earpiece. Marik and Bakura glanced quickly at each other, then back to their new acquaintance. "Hey, Henry? I gotta go."