Lo and Behold
written
by Your Darling Mana
Disclaimer: I
do not own Yu-Gi-Oh.
Author's Note: ;o; People don't review nearly as much as they did before. (Or maybe my writing is that bad, haa! ... what, ego?) Anyways, I have a really bad cold/flu/random ailment and I know how much my readers care about my personal health. ; o ; (Haha.)
Third Case
Collapsing on the leather couch of his living room, Malik couldn't be more elated to be home. The rest of his afternoon certainly hadn't been bad, but Bakura had hurried back to work. It was probably foolish, but Malik had been disappointed. He'd wanted to speak just a little more with his boss that had acted on such a crazy whim and asked him out. Filing seemed like such a mindless task that Malik had found plenty of time to think and even more time to convince himself that Bakura's relationship with Marik had to be harmless. That aside, Malik wasn't used to working (even if it was mindless) for the entire day. Since he was young, he'd always had the luxury of coming home and doing whatever he wanted after school. He was beginning to understand why Isis always seemed exhausted when she got home in the evenings.
"Are you alright, Malik?"
Leaning back, trying to stare up at his half-brother who was currently behind the couch (and in the kitchen), Malik flashed the other a grin. "I'm fine, just tired." The temptation to tell Rishid that he'd run into Marik on his first day of work swelled up but he pushed it down. It wasn't important. Oh, how desperately he wanted to believe that it wasn't important. "Then again, I still have homework to do, so maybe I'm not fine." He scrunched up his nose before adding, "Make me some brownies."
Malik had always been spoiled when it came to Rishid and the younger Egyptian had a bad habit of exploiting that. Fumbling for the remote, he realized that his phone was once against vibrating in his pocket. Ah, that's right! He'd promised to tell Anzu how his first day of work was gone. Reaching into his pocket, he sent a quick text message, 'it went great! tell you about it tomorrow; so exhausted right now!' That done, he switched his phone to silent and tossed it on to the end table. Best friend or not, he wasn't going to hold a conversation with Anzu right now.
It was time to kick back, relax, and watch some shitty television. He didn't have time to worry about updating a friend on his exciting, new life (and that was sarcastic, date with his boss or not). As soon as the television clicked on, the front door opened and by the way the shoes were kicked off behind him, he knew that it wasn't his sister that had gotten home early. Swallowing, he told himself that as long as he just didn't turn around, Marik would leave him be. He heard the other's jacket tossed over the chair to the right and damnit, the cushion sank in. By the time the remote was grabbed from his hand, Malik knew ignoring Marik wasn't going to work.
"Good evening." Marik's voice was always so calm, suave. It was one thing Malik hated about his brother; nothing seemed to upset him.
Looking over to him, (he wouldn't be intimidated; Rishid was making brownies and somehow, that made him all the stronger) Malik forced a small smile. "Good evening, Marik. How was your day?"
"Wonderful," came the sarcastic answer as his brother flipped through the channels. "I had a customer spill coffee all over themselves and throw a fit and I had to act like... well, for one, I didn't enjoy the pained expression that crossed their face when they were burned, and two, like I was apologetic."
Enjoyed the pain of something as simple as watching someone get a coffee burn? How did anyone tolerate this man? "How miserable," Malik agreed, equally sarcastic. "I went to school, filed papers..." For the first time, Malik seemed to recall seeing Marik's file. "... Di--" Did he want to ask? It was one of those things he probably didn't want to know, and quite possibly, one of those things that would piss Marik off.
"Di--? Don't stutter, it makes me want to rip out your vocal chord," Marik responded. "You're not using it correctly as it is. It wouldn't be a large loss, would it?" He chuckled lowly and Malik sunk down in his seat.
He wished, now, that he could use seeing his brother's file as blackmail. He really should have read it! There was undoubtedly something in it that he could have used, right? "Fine, fine," Malik muttered, forcing himself to regain composure. You had to with Marik or you ended up looking like a fool. "Did you visit the office today? I found your file among those that had stopped by."
Marik cocked an eyebrow at that. "Yes, I did." When Malik looked over to him expectantly, Marik chuckled, moving to run his finger over Malik's cheek. "You didn't ask for a further explanation so I don't feel any need to give one. Want to suck on my finger?"
... What the hell, Marik, really. Malik tried to pull away, wondering what exactly was wrong with his brother. Not only did he enjoy the idea of seeing someone else in pain, he didn't seem to understand the boundary among siblings. "I'm not sucking on your finger."
"Why not?" Marik licked his top lip hungrily. "It's not breaking any rules, is it? It's just you sucking harmlessly on my finger."
"You're sick," Malik mumbled, before adding, "and trying to change the topic. Why were you there? Is Bakura your lawyer?"
"Yes, Bakura is my lawyer," Marik replied simply, though he still didn't answer Malik's other question. Standing up, he stretched slightly before inquiring, "What time will sister-dearest be home?"
Malik gave the other a skeptical glance. As much as he wanted to press into the topic, he had a feeling that pestering his brother about it would only end in a fight (verbal or physical, both of which Malik was sure he would lose). "Around seven, I assume," he replied, "the same time that you usually show up. Why are you home early?" Had Marik not handled the coffee incident as well as he had implied?
"I was the only one who showed up this morning and worked the entire day, which, if you can calculate, is two shifts, and my boss felt bad for me, so she let me go home early," Marik answered. "Dinner will be done about that time?"
"I guess so?" Malik offered weakly.
Marik nodded at him before telling him, "I'll be in my room then. Don't bother me." With that, he walked off, disappearing down the hallway, much to his younger brother's relief.
"Never do," Malik muttered to himself, sinking back into the couch, taking the remote that Marik had casually tossed aside. It was amazing how uncomfortable the atmosphere became once his brother got home. It was a blessing that when he came home (if he came home), he ate and either left again or shut himself back in his room. Obviously, Malik preferred him leaving, figuring it was better that the world deal with Marik than he deal with him.
Mid-Case
"I've got dinner on the stove!" was Bakura's greeting as the silver-haired male stepped in through the door, sliding out of his trench coat and hanging it up on the coat rack by the door. Kicking off his shoes and prodding them into a straight line, Bakura stretched for a moment before walking through the foyer and into the kitchen. Peeking into the kitchen, he raised an eyebrow at Ryou before commenting, "You're like a housewife."
Scrunching up his nose in disdain, Ryou replied, "Well, if I didn't cook, who would?" Stirring at the soup on the stove, he glanced over his shoulder at Bakura, "And you're the adult here. Shouldn't you be taking care of me?"
"I am," Bakura snorted. "I'm working my ass off every day while you sit comfortably in your little art school." Whatever had made Ryou decide to go for an art degree baffled Bakura, though the older of the two had always felt the need to follow in his mother's footsteps. She'd established quite the law firm before her passing and Bakura certainly wasn't going to let that fall to its knees, particularly because it provided such a comfortable living.
"You say that," Ryou chuckled, "but I have my doubts. Anyways, no point in arguing over our lifestyles. How was your day?"
"Miserable, I suppose," Bakura answered, moving to sit down at the kitchen table. "I did get to meet my new intern, so at least my afternoons will be interesting." He laughed softly at that.
Ryou frowned at that, turning back to his soup, and examining the chicken on the stove near him. "One more person for you to lead along, I guess," he mumbled, "although, now you're dipping your feet into something illegal."
"I am the law," Bakura scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "Besides, all I did was take the kid out on a small date and buy him a cup of coffee."
"Well," Ryou murmured, "he was a cutie..." His eyes widened and he set the spoon down on a towel nearby, as not to make a mess. Turning back around, he bit his lip, "I'm getting so old. It'd be illegal for me, now, too." Nineteen wasn't that old, really, but he was still to old for a kid who was sixteen or seventeen. "That's actually kind of depressing."
"Age is just a number," Bakura chuckled. "You shouldn't be so uptight."
"Shouldn't be," Ryou agreed, "but am. One of us has to be." He glanced briefly at the dinner before looking to Bakura, "It's almost done so just move it off the stove when it's finished. I want to go put on my pajamas." Why he needed to state that, he wasn't sure. He was uncomfortable, dangit, so he was going to change. Now, all he had to do was hope Bakura didn't purposely burn dinner.
End Third Case
End Note: This chapter basically just established some relationships and ages. I figure I'll throw in a bit more of an explanation here, age-wise, simply because I'm not sure what's been stated. If it hasn't been, it will be in-story later, but here you go. Malik - 17, Ryou - 19, Isis - 21, Marik -23, Rishid - 26, Bakura - Really flipping old. I mean, 28.
I need to research when you actually get out of law school. I know I have a cousin that went through it, and they're around 25, but... Hmm.
But, hope you enjoy reading! And hope you love this randomly long note at the end of the story. But how could you not!
