Disclaimer: I own everything I ever bought ever! Which amounts to a handful of buttons and a cat. In other words, I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or The Abridged Series or any other fan-based parodies.

A/N: In honor of my new-found addiction to Marik/Bakura romances (not yaio cuz I don't like sex), I am endeavoring to write my own. Maybe then I will quench my thirst. Doubtful.

"Bakura, could you pass me the chips?" Marik asked from his computer.

"They're right behind you, on your bed. Get them yourself."

"But I'm in the middle of a very important video game! Quit being self-centered, get off your lazy bum, and hand them to me!"

Bakura groaned, pushing off like a tired rocket from his bed on the opposite wall and taking the few short strides to Marik's bed, his long, white legs masked by his white slacks. "Here, you pathetic, ungrateful diva."

Marik took one out of the box and ate it without looking, then spat it out on the floor. "What are you trying to do? Poison me! Those aren't chips; those are fries. They'll make me fat and ruin my figure! Now I know why I never made you my mind-slave – you don't have a brain!"

"These are chips, you pompous, snout-faced buffoon! If you wanted the Wheat Thins, you should have asked for crackers. Your ridiculous amount of hair has overheated and melted your brain, which wasn't much to begin with."

"Why are there fries on my bed in the first place? Are you trying to get grease-stains on my sheets? I knew you had an irrational hatred for purple, but you've gone too far."

Just then, a loud bang from their apartment door startled them, and a voice from the other side boomed, "Quit arguing, you queers! Get out of the apartment for a while and give us some peace."

"Worst neighbors ever," Marik huffed, logging off his computer. He shoved Bakura lightly, "Come on, let's go hang out in the park."

…

The glowering sun baked the mid-summer air and sent rivets of sweat streaming down the folds of the plumper bodies that rushed about wildly in the open of the public park. Here and there, clusters of freaky-haired teens stood in a circle with their oblong eyes glued to a pair of battling duelists. Bakura and Marik passed idly by these clumps with snotty disregard, their stride so in sync they could have easily been mistaken as members of a boy band. They headed listlessly to their preferred people-watching spot – the fountain.

"Bakura, who are those tacky mortals sitting on our bench?" Marik demanded as they entered the circular walkway possessing the fountain. A group of four boys were horsing around one of the six benches in the circle. The other five were uninhabited.

"A gang of wankers, if you ask me," he replied coolly.

"Hey!" one of the taller boys called over to them, "You wanna play a game with us?"

"Game? What kind of game?" Marik asked, "A children's card game, perhaps?"

"Uh, no, dude. It's an American game. It's called Gay Chicken."

"What?" Marik exclaimed, taken aback. "What kind of game is that?"

"The way you play is two guys face each other and lean forward like they're gonna kiss, and whoever pulls away first loses. Like so." The tall kid pushed the two shorter boys together. They grimaced, but the tall one gave them a stern look, so they faced each other. The blonde boy inched his face closer to the ginger. The ginger allowed this transaction unwillingly, but as soon as their faces were five inches apart, he turned his head. "See, now Mike is the winner. Ron never has the balls to do it."

"Because I'm not gay!" Ron exclaimed.

"I'm not either," Mike said defensively.

"This game looks stupid," Bakura surmised, turning away and grabbing Marik by the elbow. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Looks like someone's homophobic," Marik teased.

"I am not. It's just a stupid game, is all."

"You only think that because you're too chicken to ever win it."

"I could beat you at Gay Chicken any day."

"Is that a challenge, Bakura?"

"For you, it is."

"Then I accept your challenge. We'll see who can win Gay Chicken later tonight."

That evening, when they returned to the apartment, Marik and Bakura faced off for their first game of Gay Chicken.

"So how are we supposed to go about doing this, Bakura?"

"You know the rules as well as I do."

"Yes, but do we sit down or stand up or what?"

"I'd prefer to stand." Bakura crossed his arms. He stood toe-to-toe with Marik, their eyes (and lips) even.

Marik gulped. "You start."

"Typical, Marik. I have to be the leader with everything in this house."

"I'm paying for the apartment, so don't get snippy with me, Fluffy."

"Shut up and play the game."

"Fine, I'll start. But only because I'm manlier than you."

"You wish, Diva."

Marik glared into Bakura's eyes, his tan lips in a tight line below his nose. Slowly, he leaned his face toward Bakura's face, who responded with the like. They neared each other at a snail's pace, their eyes never leaving the other's. When the tips of their noses were three-quarters of an inch apart, they stopped.

"You're spineless, Marik," Bakura said in a hushed rumble, "You'd never do it. You'll have to pull away first, or we'll stay this way all night, because I won't lose to you. I actually have a back bone, and I –" He was cut off by Marik's lips pressing softly against his. Bakura reared back and wiped his mouth emphatically. "What the bloody hell did you do that for?"

"You lose. You pulled away first," Marik taunted triumphantly, strolling casually into the bathroom.

"That – that's cheating," Bakura stammered in dismay.

"Face it, Bakura," Marik replied from behind the closed door, "I can beat you at a children's card game, and I can beat you at Gay Chicken. You are less of a man than I."

A/N: Yeah, this story will have short chapters. It's way too hard to make a story with chapters as long as Excessive Misbehavior's chapters. By the way, this story was written before "Your Cruise Ship Plays Card Games in Hell" but I forgot to post it because I got distracted by that story. Anyway, read and enjoy.