***AN: This story was the result of me not wanting to get up and go to the gym/go jogging one morning. I was having an internal argument about how my fat butt was too getting up to exercise and then out of no where I have this entire story written in my head (in like 30 seconds of time). Took me a couple of months to get it in a word document, however. I think I've caught most of the grammar errors, but if I missed something feel free to let me know so I can fix it.***

Bakura sat on the couch and read. He dabbed his pointer and mid-finger against his tongue and flipped the page, but before he could read the next line, Marik pounced into his lap and grabbed the book out of Bakura's hands. "Hey Bakura, guess what? I have the best, most evil, idea ever to ruin Yugi's birthday party tomorrow."

"Oh goodie. What is it this time, Marik? Build a live model of Catapult Turtle and fling over cooked pasta at him?"

Marik's eyes grew round at Bakura's suggestion. He jumped off of Bakura's lap and ran to his computer, jotting down the idea on a sticky note and then glomping Bakura on the sofa once again. "No, that's not it. This idea is even better because I came up with it. So I was watching youtube videos –"

"Because we know it's always brilliant to copy things one sees on youtube."

"Silence. Anyway, we should totally ship ourselves."

Bakura smirked. "Yes. Yes we should. I mean, everyone else ships us. Why shouldn't we ship ourselves as well?"

Marik cocked his head to the left and raised an eyebrow, staring at Bakura like a confused puppy. "What?"

Bakura rolled his eyes into his head. "Just explain your plan, Marik."

"Oh right. I got the idea from Carlos Mencia. We can be villains in a box! All we have to do is Fed Ex ourselves from Somewhere In Egypt to Domino City."

"Wouldn't that be uncomfortable and take a really long time?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Because of the miracle of anime physics, we should be there in just one episode's worth of time."

"What makes you think I'd subject myself to being cramped in a box with you for even that long?"

"I already have a crate to ship us in!" Marik jumped up and opened the door, a huge, wooden crate waited, Yugi's address scrawled on the side with purple crayon. Marik jumped into the box. "See? Everything's ready. C'mon, Fluffy, let's go." He sat down and disappeared into the box.

"Have fun." Bakura searched the room for where Marik misplaced his book.

"Bakura," Marik whined.

"I'm not getting in the box, Marik."

"Damn-it, Bakura, you get in this box right now and ship yourself with me!"

It sounded much better when Bakura ignored the giant shipping crate blocking their doorway. He thought of how cramped they'd be in the box together and then a wicked smirk adorned Bakura's face. He ran his fingers through the white knives of hair and thought of how he could manipulate the situation to his advantage. Perhaps it was time to try and coax Marik out of the closet by letting his ill-planned scheme backfire. Bakura ran his tongue across his lips slow and predatory as he stood up and slinked to the box. He jumped inside and straddled Marik's lap, fastening the lid in place and shutting out all the light.

Marik squirmed. "Bakura, not in my lap. Find your own spot to sit."

"There's no where else to sit, Marik. Are you ready to admit this is a bad idea?"

Marik pushed against Bakura, trying to nudge Bakura off of his lap. "This plan is genius – as are all my plans – and nothing will go wrong. You just need to get over to your half of the box."

"My half of the box? Marik it's pitch black in here. How the bugger am I supposed to find my half?"

He felt Marik's arm move and a mild glow surrounded them. Bakura noticed that Marik had adhered two touch lights to the crate walls. "Well, at least you thought of that."

"Of course, I'm not going to sit in the dark." He went back to pushing Bakura away from his bare, tight-knotted abdominal muscles. "Now move."

Bakura glanced behind him. An inch of space separated his feet from the crate wall. "Marik, even if I wanted to move, there's no room."

"Well, stop letting your host-guy eat so many damn cream puffs, Bakura. It's not my fault if you're too fat to fit properly."

Bakura's hands clenched into fists. "There's nothing wrong with my weight. Just admit that the box isn't big enough, Marik."

"No, it's fine. You're just fat."

Bakura's entire face flushed with anger. The blush expanded from his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose and over his forehead. "That's it. I'm done."

He tried to push the lid away. Bakura grunted, digging his knees against the bottom of the crate and pressing up as hard as he could. "Marik, the damn box is stuck. Get me out of here."

Marik looked sheepish. "Well, you see, Bakura. I kinda sprayed adhesive to the edges of the crate so that the lid would stay in place as we traveled.

Bakura scowled. "You did what now?"

"Yeah, brilliant idea, right?"

"How are we suppose to get out?"

"Yugi will let us out when he opens the package."

"Marik, get me out of the box right now."

Marik shrugged. "I don't know what you want me to do, Bakura. We're stuck. Nothing to do now but wait for the perfect moment to strike – which will be when Yugi opens the box."

"Just shut-up and help me push this bloody lid to this bloody box so I can go back to reading my bloody novel."

"Awwww, Bakura, you're no fun," Marik whined. "This is the perfect plan. If you don't do this with me you're going to regret it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but the day after that, Bakura, you'll realize you had Yugi right where you wanted him but gave up your revenge to read like a friggn' nerd."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take. Now get me out of this box." Bakura's breathing sounded loud and raspy in his own ears, like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. Thousands of years trapped in the Millennium Ring had given him a sour opinion of enclosed spaces and he couldn't remember why he ever wanted to be in a cramped space with Marik. "Now, Marik!" He managed to keep his voice at a growl, but he wanted to scream.

Marik studied his face for a moment, sighing and rolling his eyes. "Fine, we'll try to push the lid up." He scowled. "Geez, Bakura, you'd make a lousy tomb guardian. Compared to my old bedroom, this box is spacious."

"Marik."

"Yeah, yeah, out of the box. Push on three. One. Two."

Before Marik finished saying 'two', the box jostled. Bakura sank into Marik's lap, wrapping both arms around Marik's neck in order to keep from smashing into the side of the crate. "Are we moving?"

"Oooops." Marik grinned, scratching the back of his head and shrugging Bakura's arms away. "I forgot I already scheduled a pick-up."

The swaying ended with a slam. A muffled sound reached their ears and then the softer rocking of being driven away in a truck.

"Fuck. My. Life." Bakura leaned back against the crate wall, getting as far away from Marik as possible, which equated to mere inches of space.

"Don't worry, Bakura. Now we can get our revenge after all."

"I hate you," Bakura muttered.

Marik crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not trying to come on to me again, are you? Because I already told you—"

"–No, I'm not hitting on you." Bakura pushed his fingertips against his temples to stave off the migraine building behind his eyelids. "I don't understand how anyone can be feeble minded enough to think of something this stupid and then think it's actually a good idea."

Marik smirked. "I know what's wrong. You're jealous because you didn't think of it first."

"No. No. I'm embarrassed because you don't even get the fact that you're an idiot and your plans are ridiculous."

"Hey, my plans are incredible!"

"You mean incredibly bad."

"We're on our way to Domino City, aren't we?"

"We sure are." Bakura crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the box and closing his eyes. He had his ass scooted as far as possible, but that left Marik's knees rammed into the back of his thighs. It'd be more comfortable to slide back into Marik's lap, but Bakura was too angry to get closer so he suffered the discomfort, kept his arms crossed, and dozed to sleep since that was his only avenue of escape.

Bakura's eyes shot open when their transportation hit a bump of some sort, sending their box up into the air and down with a crash. It landed on its side, throwing Bakura on his back and Marik pushed down on his chest and groin. Bakura tried to shove Marik away. "Move. You're too close," he complained, never imagining he'd have Marik between his legs and be anything other than ecstatic about it.

"Bakura stop it. There's no where to go."

"That's your bloody fault for picking a box that wasn't big enough."

"Quit bitching. We're almost there."

"I don't care. Scoot over somehow. Get on the side. Anything but on top of me." Bakura tried to get to one side of the crate, hoping Marik could roll over to the other side, but all Bakura managed to do was thrash around. There simply wasn't enough room for them to sit any other way but stacked on top of each other.

"B-Bakura, stop squirming. You're making it worse."

Marik's face looked flushed in the dim touch-lights. The box had no air holes or means of circulation and Bakura felt his shirt stick to his skin with sweat. Bakura banged the back of his head against the box several times. Perhaps if he gave himself brain damage he could understand what Marik saw in his plans.

Marik gave an odd chuckle. His eyes kept darting left and right, like he was trying to avoid looking at Bakura, but there was no where else to look. "Okay. Okay. So the box tipping on its side wasn't part of the master plan."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "You don't say?"

"You think we can tilt it back up?"

Bakura glanced at the bottom of the crate. "I don't think so. We don't have enough room to build momentum." He looked up. "Maybe we can bust the top. The lid may have loosened when the crate turned over."

Marik nodded. "Let's try."

They dug their feet against the bottom of the box (currently the side wall of the box since it was sideways), and used their hands to press up. Their bodies strained against each other as they pressed against the lid as hard as they could.

"No. No. This isn't working. It's just – you're squirming too much Bakura."

Bakura punched the crate lid with his fist. "I want this damn lid off."

"We're just going to have to wait – and stay still. Very still."

"Bugger sitting still. There's got to be a way out of this mess and I'm not quitting until I find it." Bakura wiggled up an inch, tracing the outline of the crate and trying to find a lose seem or weak spot.

"Bakura, stop moving," Marik whined, but it wasn't like his familiar give-me-my-way voice. Marik sounded distressed and Bakura wondered if the claustrophobia was finally kicking in.

"Marik, if I don't get out of this box I'm going to lose it."

"Just, just don't think about it. Just stop thinking about it, and stay really still, and wait for it to be over."

Something about the timber of Marik's voice made Bakura stop examining the crate in order to examine his partner. "Marik?"

Marik's blond bangs looked like wet feathers mattered against his forehead. Marik kept his eyes pressed shut, refusing to look at anything. "Just stop moving around. It's awkward."

Bakura frowned. "Yeah, it feels pretty damn awkward with you jammed between my legs as well. That's why I want out of this sodding box."

"It'll be fine if you just stay still."

"No, it won't be fine. It'll just be easier for you to ignore what's happening," Bakura growled, his expression angry. He grabbed Marik's face in both hands and forced Marik to meet his gaze. "Staying still and pretending it's not happening won't make it go away, Marik. So for once in your life stop disassociating and help me think of a way to fix the situation."

"I don't want . . . I don't want to think . . . I don't want to, Bakura."

A horrible thought came to Bakura. If Marik kept denying everything, would it bring out Melvin? A box wasn't the ideal place to deal with Marik's murderous alter ego.

"Marik, stay with me, okay?" Bakura whispered, his voice softer than usual. He still held each side of Marik's face with his hands, and he ran his right thumb across Marik's cheek. "Like you said, we're almost there, right? Don't you think those idiots will be shocked when you spring out of the box for an attack?" Bakura didn't move and hoped he could distract Marik enough to keep his partner in control of himself. He could see Marik's chest visibly rising and falling as he watched Bakura with huge eyes. Bakura continued, "we should probably rehearse something villainous and menacing to say to them when we see them. I was thinking of grabbing the knife out of the cake and—"

Marik's lips were warmer and softer than Bakura ever imagined, and for the first few seconds Bakura thought he imagined the kiss as well. Marik settled his weight into Bakura, but Marik didn't feel as heavy as he had earlier, nor did the box seem too small any longer. Bakura brushed his thumb against Marik's cheek again as they exchanged kiss after kiss.

Marik whispered over Bakura's lips. "I did it on purpose."

Bakura reached up for another kiss, wondering where all his anger went. He couldn't seem to remember why he was ever opposed to Marik's scheme. "Did what on purpose?"

Marik kissed him two more times before muttering a reply. "The box."

"Our box?"

"Oh, now it's 'our box'. Before it was the 'damn box', the 'bloody box', and even the 'sodding box'." Marik chuckled, but only for a moment before going back to Bakura's mouth.

Bakura grunted, not having a better argument and not caring as long as Marik's lips were against his. But after a time Bakura became curious again. "What about the box, Marik?"

"You mean our box?"

Bakura felt like Marik was dodging the issue again so repeated his question. "What about it?"

Marik sighed, kissing Bakura a few more times before answering. "I knew it was too small."

"Then why . . ."

"I didn't want to think about why. I knew it was too small, but I convinced myself it'd work."

"That doesn't make sense." Bakura said in between kisses.

Marik dabbed his tongue in and out of Bakura's mouth before answering, "it makes perfect sense. It was a perfect plan."

Another kiss and then another question. "How does it make sense? Why would you make the box too small on purpose?"

Marik made a kiss-muffled groan. "Bakura I don't want to think right now—"

"No, you want to kiss me instead."

Marik's brow creased as he pulled away enough to speak. "I thought you'd be happier about it."

Bakura stared at him, frowning. "Marik, I'm gay."

Marik rolled his eyes. "Obviously."

"What about you? What happens when we're not in the box anymore?"

"Bakura, stop talking." A little growl escaped from the back of Marik's throat and he grabbed Bakura's hair in order to hold him still and kiss him again.

Bakura grabbed the front of Marik's shirt. He meant to push Marik away, but as soon as mouth ground into mouth, Bakura realized he didn't have the strength to push away. Marik's kisses grew more aggressive. He pressed harder against Bakura's lips and used his tongue without reservation. It overwhelmed the ancient spirit. After fives minutes, Bakura was prepared to give up on his question, but then the answer dawned on him. "You did it on purpose." He spoke nearly into Marik's mouth since Marik didn't give him a chance to pull away or even breathe.

"I know."

"No. I mean, the whole scheme. You did it on purpose. You knew if you goaded me that I'd sit in your lap, and then you teased me to make me think you didn't want me in your lap." He had to pause for a moment as Marik's lips moved hard against his own, but as soon as could, he finished his thought. "But you also knew that would piss me off and make me try to leave, so you glued the box shut."

"I know. I already said all that."

"No, you didn't."

"Yes I did. It was a great plan, Bakura. I even knew if I glued the box shut we'd need someone to open it, so I tossed in the 'let's crash Yugi's birthday party' bit." Marik panted from the combination of thin air in the box, kissing, and speaking. "Never meant to kiss you, though, but you wouldn't quit squirming and I couldn't take it any longer."

"Why would you go through all that trouble? You could have just made a move."

"If I did that, you'd argue somehow."

"I would not."

"I'm trying to make a move right now, and you're arguing with me right now."

"Because of your roundabout method."

Marik growled, biting Bakura's bottom lip. "I command you to shut-the-eff-up."

"No," Bakura said, just to say it.

"I'll make you shut-up."

"Try it."

Marik started sucking on his throat. Bakura gasped, his hips jerking up and into Marik by their own reflex. "That . . . won't . . . mmmm . . ." he couldn't finish the sentence. "Fine. I'll drop it. Just – don't – stop."

Marik chuckled against his throat; the vibrations tickled Bakura's windpipe. Marik pulled Bakura's shirt over his head. Bakura lifted his arms to help, but only managed to smack his hands and wrists against the box wall. Marik's lavender belly-shirt bunched up high on his own chest so their bare stomachs glided against each other.

Through the wooden box-sides came the screech of break pads. Bakura pulled away as much he could. "The truck stopped."

Marik grunted and went back to Bakura's mouth. The box shook, being loaded back onto a dolly. Bakura's spoke again; his words muffled by Marik's lips. "The truck stopped."

"So what?"

"Shouldn't we stop?"

"One more minute."

One more minute sounded good to Bakura as he grabbed Marik's butt with one hand and used the other to explore Marik's hair. Neither one of them counted, or cared about, the passing of time. Bakura's fingers found Marik's scared back and he was too busy smoothing over the ridges, as if his hands could wipe away all the damage craved into Marik, to realize when the box shifted again and came to it's final rest. They somehow tumbled back to their original position. Bakura once again sat in Marik's lap. Marik's hands held Bakura's waist, warm and calloused although the rest of him was professionally waxed, and smooth, and covered in almond scented lotion. Bakura opened his mouth to tease Marik for smelling like a woman, but Marik's tongue pushed inside and Bakura let the comment drop.

Outside, a muffle of voices gathered around the box. Bakura could hear them through the wood, first Yugi, and then his mindless flock of cheerleaders.

"I only know one person that would use purple crayon. Who says trap?"

"Trap."

"Trap."

"Nyeh."

"Trap."

"Obvious trap."

"Pudding!"

"God dammit, Tristan."

Bakura knew they should stop, but Marik continued to kiss him like they'd never stop. Before he had a chance to say something, their box lifted up once again and Tristan shouted, "Hey everybody, watch me. My voice gives gives me super – whooops!"

They toppled down, Marik retracted his tongue so neither of them bit it when they crashed. The top of the crate shattered, and they tumbled out of the box. Bakura and Marik rolled together across a long table, crushing presents as they spiraled down the table's length. Bakura grunted when they came to a halt. Marik lay on top of him once again, and Bakura remembered that he didn't have his shirt on. He felt exposed without it, but couldn't move to grab it because Marik had him pinned.

A moment slipped past, and Bakura realized everyone stared. Marik looked at him and he looked back at Marik. A smirk twitched the corner of Marik's lips. "Fuck it. One more minute," he said as he grabbed Bakura's hair and went back to kissing as if they still sat in the box.

Bakura did not expect Marik to continue in the view of others. If anything, he thought Marik would jump up and explain to everyone why he was the most evil and least gay villain of all time, so when Marik pressed his tongue back into Bakura's mouth, Bakura kicked out in surprise. He felt something soft yield against the force of his foot, and heard whatever he kicked slide off of the table and land with a soft splat against the floor. Only then did he realize they'd managed to destroy Yugi's birthday cake along with crushing all his presents – making the entire fiasco their most successful strike against their enemies since they'd become partners.

Everything outside the realm of Marik came to Bakura as if in a dream. Tea lectured them about ruining Yugi's birthday while Joey yelled for them to get a room, and Bakura was pretty sure Duke recorded video of them on his cell phone, but none of that mattered. Bakura wrapped his legs around Marik and kissed him as if no one else existed and they were the only survivors in a great, big, stupid world.

A soft chime and a flash of light designated the Pharaoh taking over for Yugi. Bakura's peripheral vision caught the Pharaoh's frown. "I don't know how this ties into whatever scheme you have planned, but stop it. If anyone should be making out on my birthday it should be me."

Their mouths too caught up in each other to bother with words, Marik and Bakura both extended their arms out in the Pharaoh's direction and flipped out their middle fingers to tell the Pharaoh to sod off. They hadn't meant to do it at the same time, and Bakura would have laughed if Marik's tongue wasn't swirling in his mouth.

"Dammit, I'm serious. I don't want to watch this."

Marik had a solution. He reached out his hand and grabbed Bakura's shirt – it had tangled between their legs as they rolled across the table. He flung the striped cloth at the Pharaoh's face. The material caught in the tri-colored spikes of hair, swaying and bobbing over his head and shielding his eyes from view.

Bakura heard gasps from most and a snicker from Kaiba. This time Bakura had to laugh. He looked up at Marik. "Brilliant plan. "

"All of my plans are. "

Bakura pinched Marik's nipple through the silk of his shirt. "One more minute?"

Marik answered with tongue and lips and mouth rather than words, and Bakura unfastened Marik's shirt so that when the Pharaoh began lecturing them again, Bakura would be ready with another shirt to fling. Perhaps he and Marik could pelt Yugi and his friends with shoes and belts when they ran out of shirts. Then they'd be able to kiss one minute longer.

***AN: Thanks for reading. And thanks to Supersteffy for pointing out all the obvious mistakes I didn't catch.***