Disclaimer: Being very beautiful is not synonymous with being Japanese. Therefore, I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or the ability to make logical arguments.

A/N: At last I have finished the next chapter! You may read and enjoy, but you may not explode. Exploding would be bad.


The first thing Bakura remembered when he woke up this morning was being blinded by a horribly inconsiderate sun and its tan teacher's pet. He'd groaned and slammed his pillow down over his eyes, but the devil-spawn persistently rolled him out of bed and forced him into his clothes. Now, Bakura was leaning against the wall of a Victorian-style mansion with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, listening to the real-estate agent-lady prattle on about the history of the house and how many "noblemen" had lived in it. This was the sixth house Marik had picked out since he'd started searching two weeks ago, and Bakura hated this one as much as the first five.

"And now if you'll follow me to the West Wing…" the woman said.

"Sod your wings. Marik, this is bloody absurd. We don't need a house this big. I don't think even a family of Mormons could fill this house."

Marik glared at him, then flipped his hair and stuck his nose in the air. "If you think you can do better, then you pick the next one."

"I plan on it." He grabbed Marik's wrist and dragged him back to the car, the squatty woman trampling after them. He pushed the Egyptian into the back seat, then handed the huffing woman a scrap of paper. "Take us to this address."

The woman examined the address. "But I don't – " she glanced up at Bakura's glaring face, gulped, and piled into the front seat, "Yes, sir."

Bakura buckled himself in next to Marik and pulled a black tie from his pocket. "What are you doing with that – AAH!" Marik protested as Bakura wrapped it around his eyes. He struggled against the band, but Bakura slapped his hands.

"Stop resisting. I just want you to be surprised when I show you this house."

Marik crossed his arms and pouted. "You think you know what I like better than I do?"

"It doesn't matter. I know you will like this house." Bakura slipped his arm behind the Egyptian's neck and pecked him quickly on the forehead before the woman could see. Marik continued to pout, although didn't object any further.

When he head Bakura say, "Turn here," and felt the car slow down, Marik became restless, and demanded, "Are we almost there?"

In response, Bakura pulled off his blindfold, grabbed his face gently, and turned his eyes to the right window. Marik gasped, shot across Bakura's lap, and pressed his face to the window. The house had two levels – three if you counted the attic peering out over the lawn – with white paint and purple shudders, a spacious, wrap-around porch with figures etched into the handrails, and two ionic support columns on either side of the front door. As the car pulled into the driveway, Marik's eyes widened in wonder at the beautiful garden behind the house. There were fountains – two that he could see – and a small koi pond with a miniature waterfall flowing down the side of a smooth, stony ledge. Marik jumped out of the car and ran to the pond, only then noticing the porch swing next to the back door. He looked up at Bakura with shimmering eyes and whispered, "I love you."

"I know. Would you like to see the inside?" He offered the Egyptian his hand, then pulled him to his feet and walked him up the back stairs. He fished around in his pocket and brought out an old-fashioned key with intricate, rustic detailing of a lynx lightly garbed in tendrils of vines. He pushed open the door and motioned for Marik to go inside, following closely behind him.

Marik gazed up at the 10-foot ceilings and spiral staircase. "Art Nouveau? How did you know, Bakura? That's my favourite style."

"There's more," Bakura said vaguely, encircling his wrist with his fingers and tugging him into another room. "I noticed you liked Klimt's The Kiss, but I couldn't find any of his work nearby, so I had my own commissioned."

"Commissioned? What are you talking ab– oh my Rod! Is – is that us?" Marik gaped at the fresco that covered the entire back wall of this sitting room. Done in the style of Klimt, Bakura had had several artists paint him and Marik swaddled in a mosaic-looking blanket similar to that in The Kiss, Bakura's head bent over Marik's, their lips connected in a heartfelt smooch. Marik's jaw flapped. Speechless, he turned to his lover, who smirked smugly. "How long?"

Bakura shrugged. "It only took them a week to finish, but I had a whole team working on it nonstop. I knew you would like it."

"Like it? I don't like it. I love it! It's beautiful. You really do know me better than I know myself." He pushed up on his toes and kissed the Brit. Bakura lifted him, gathering him up in his arms, and carried him out of the room with steady, precise steps, still attached to his lips. Breathless, Marik asked, "Where are you taking me?"

"To the best part," Bakura whispered, kicking open a heavy wooden door and elbowing the light switch. Marik turned and gazed upon the wood-paneled room, taking in everything with incredulous purple pupils. In the centre of the room was a king-sized canopy bed with solid mahogany posts and a deep maroon comforter.

"Ba-Bakura," Marik gasped, "Is this ours? Our bed?"

"I bought it with you in mind." Bakura winked.

Marik giggled. "You're so bad, Fluffy."

Bakura stood in the doorway, holding Marik's thin body and gazing at him in silence. Finally, he said, "Everything's paid for. I've been working on this for quite a while. We can stay if you want, bring our stuff over tomorrow. It's your choice."

"I think we can live without our things for a night," Marik consented.

The real-estate lady cleared her throat as she walked up behind the couple. She averted her eyes as Bakura turned and glared at her. "Um, if you don't need me, I can leave you alone now. Unless you need a ride…"

"You can go. We don't need you."

The woman scurried away, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd already bought a house?" Marik griped.

"Because your face made it worth the secrecy." Bakura kissed his nose lightly. "Would you like to see more of the house?"

Marik smirked up at him. "I think I'd rather explore this room a little more."


A/N: The end of the chapter so soon? No way! But if you leave a review, it will all be okay.