Grrr, I'm late again, sorry. Everything just seems to be against me actually updating on time at the moment. . Anyway, you'll be glad to hear that there is a bit more plot this time hehe, except there is of course fluff as well (in fact, it's still mostly fluff. Oops. ^_^). It's another relatively short chapter, because basically this one and last update were meant to all be one chapter, but I am ill and couldn't get it all out on Tuesday. It's messed up my plan a bit, but not too badly, so I'm hoping everything will still flow ok, and sorry again for being useless and turning out such short chapters late. I shall endeavour to do better in the future. Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing, and to you all for being patient with me!

Oh, and because I keep forgetting to say this: I definitely do not own Yu-Gi-Oh, and I do not in any way claim ownership of any of the characters in this story. Kazuki Takahashi owns them all.

Anyway, enough of me boring you. On with the chapter! - Jem

Unfortunately for Bakura and Marik, their comfortable reverie was disturbed somewhat when a flow of piano notes, for once not made by Bakura, echoed through the room from a phone that lay ringing on the desk. Marik groaned softly, reluctantly opening his eyes and giving a rather harsh jab to the mess of white that was sprawled across his chest, digging his nails in. "Oi. Get up."

A long low growl vibrated across Marik's chest.

Violet eyes rolled. "Phone. Go get it, idiot."

"You get it." The mass of white moved and a yawn stretched pale lips wide before Bakura crashed back onto Marik's chest, curling up and firmly closing his eyes.

Marik shook his head, threading brown fingers through white hair, an amused grin spreading slowly across Marik's face. "That sure as hell isn't my ring tone, so it's got to be yours. Get off your lazy ass and answer it."

Bakura opened his eyes a crack, just enough to send Marik a lethal glare. Marik just grinned at him, continuing to tug at strands of white hair until the phone finally stopped ringing. Bakura flashed Marik a smirk before he lay back down on Marik's chest, his eyes closing and his arms wrapping securely around Marik's chest. "See? No need for me to get it."

"It might have been important," Marik chided.

Bakura snorted. "If it was, they'll call back. Besides, I don't see why you're complaining – don't pretend you're not comfortable."

"With you sprawled all over me?" Marik scoffed, pulling a little too tightly on Bakura's hair. "I'd be much more comfortable without your added weight, thank you very much."

Bakura merely yawned, pointedly rolling further onto Marik and settling down; it didn't help when the phone started up again, soft piano music brushing Marik's ears. He groaned, poking Bakura's side. "It's for you, bastard."

Bakura snarled, predictably staying put.

Marik hissed, his eyes gaining a wicked gleam as he wrapped his arms around Bakura's torso. Taking the pale student completely by surprise, Marik grasped him and firmly rolled sideways, deliberately pushing Bakura off the bed. Bakura flailed, letting out a shout of surprise, his eyes widened comically as he landed heavily on the carpet, turning a baleful brown stare on Marik. Marik burst into fits of laughter, hugging his stomach and falling back onto the bedsheets, his face creased into amusement. Bakura's brow furrowed. "You are going to pay for that, Ishtar."

"Just answer your damn phone," Marik forced out between chuckles. "And shut up the crap music."

Bakura sniffed, clambering to his feet and making for his desk. "Debussy is perfectly pleasant to listen to, actually."

"Not when I'm trying to sleep, it isn't," Marik remarked with a yawn.

Bakura tossed him a sly wink. "So, it's only when I'm playing that you like to fall asleep to piano music, is it?"

"I – no – what?" Marik blinked, sitting up and glaring at Bakura. "Don't get a big head. How the fuck do you even know that?"

Bakura just winked, finally getting to his phone just as it stopped ringing for the second time. Bakura swore. "Dammit, Ishtar. You got me out of bed just for that?!"

"Your fault for being too slow." Marik lay back down, curling up on the bed with the sheets tangled around him as he gazed sleepily up at Bakura, who was sending him a dangerous glower. Marik just waved him away. "Call whoever it was back. Problem solved."

"You're a fucking nightmare," Bakura growled. He obediently scooped his phone up, though, sitting back on the edge of the bed as he pulled up the caller ID. A sly smirk stretched across his face. "Well, well. This could be interesting."

Marik frowned suspiciously when Bakura flicked the phone up to his ear, a crease appearing in his forehead as he crawled to where the pale student was sitting. "What? Who is it?"

Bakura didn't reply; just winked.

Marik's suspicion didn't leave his features as he came up to sit beside Bakura, frowning at the phone and examining Bakura's expression. Bakura's smirk widened when the person on the other end picked up, speaking in a slow drawl, "Well, good morning, Kek. What is it that brings you to me on a day like this?"

Marik's jaw dropped. "Kek? My Kek?"

Bakura ignored him in favour of laughing down the phone. "Oh, afternoon is it, now? I've been a little busy, so I lost track of time."

"My cousin has your number?" Marik's frown deepened as something sank deep in his gut, causing him to wriggle uncomfortably. "I don't even have your number. And don't you dare tell him about this, Bakura, or I won't hesitate to kill you."

Bakura shot Marik a sly grin. "What's that, Kek? Sorry, your cousin was talking over you."

"I am fucking warning you," Marik hissed, his violet eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. "Tell him nothing."

Bakura's brown eyes shimmered with mirth. "Yes, Kek, you could say that. Marik's certainly been keeping me busy ... Well, naturally. Yes, I'm sorry, tell Kaiba I can't meet him today, much as I'd love to. I'm not really planning on getting out of bed."

Marik's jaw set.

Bakura sent him a wicked smirk as he continued speaking into the phone. "Yes, Marik's here. I persuaded him not to leave ... Well, the fact that we're still in bed now speaks for itself, doesn't it? Of course I've been fucking him all night."

Raucous laughter sounded down the line and Marik howled, lunging across the bed and knocking Bakura backwards. "I warned you! I fucking warned you, fucking bastard!"

Bakura threw a hand against Marik's forehead, attempting to hold him at arm's length even as he chuckled into the phone. "Oh, yes, I'm sure he'd just love to speak with you, but he's otherwise occupied just now..."

"Give me that!" Marik roared, throwing his full weight at Bakura and succeeding in knocking the phone out of his grip. "Fucking asshole!" Grabbing the phone, Marik sat determinedly on Bakura's waist to keep him in place as he gasped down the line. "Kek! Whatever the hell you want, leave it until later!"

"Why?" Kek's tone was quite obviously laced with amusement, bubbling with laughter. "Did I catch you with his dick in your mouth, or what?"

Marik practically gagged, holding the phone as far away from his ear as he could and yelling into it. "What the hell? Kek! How is that any of your business?"

More cackling sounded through the receiver, so Marik gave up. Without even bothering to hang up, Marik chucked the phone across the room with enough force to make it bounce off the opposite wall before crawling up to the pillow and burying his face in it, groaning loudly. He knew his cousin, and Kek was never going to let him live this down.

There was a rustle of sheets followed by a low chuckle, and then arms wrapped around Marik's back and pulled him into a warm chest. Breath tickled the back of his neck. "Please don't tell me you're freaking out again, Ishtar."

"You fucking told him!" Marik complained, allowing his eyes to slide shut.

He could feel Bakura's quiet laughter. "And why, pray tell, is that a problem?"

"Are you kidding me?" Marik turned around in Bakura's arms, meeting his glittering gaze with narrowed violet eyes. "Have you met my cousin? He's difficult enough to shut up at the best of times, without you giving him ammo!"

"So?" Bakura's stare was bordering on insolent.

"So?! So?!" Marik's voice shot up several octaves. "So, you fucking bastard, I am never going to be able to have a sensible conversation with him again! I hope you're fucking proud of yourself."

Bakura merely chuckled, his voice ruffling Marik's hair even as he pulled him closer. "You're such an oversensitive prick."

Marik growled low in his throat, begrudgingly allowing himself to bury his head in Bakura's neck. As annoyed as he was, Marik had to admit that it was still exceedingly pleasant to be held so close to another, wrapped so securely in someone else's arms. Particularly when that someone was Bakura, the guy who supposedly didn't care about anyone or anything. Marik couldn't help but feel a little flattered. That feeling only increased at Bakura's next words, muttered as they were directly into Marik's ear.

"Why shouldn't Kek know? Why shouldn't everyone know? You're mine, Ishtar, and the sooner everyone realises that the better."

Marik felt chills shiver down his spine, and for once they weren't unpleasant. He glanced up at Bakura, arching one eyebrow as he lifted himself until they were at eye level, both splayed out on the pillows. "Who says I'm yours?"

"Oh, come now." Bakura gave a feral grin, all sharp lips and teeth. "If you weren't, you wouldn't still be here. You're mine." With the last two words, Bakura's arms became almost painfully tight around Marik's torso, pulling them impossibly close together. Marik's nostrils flared when Bakura's familiar intoxicating scent surrounded him.

Marik felt one corner of his own mouth tug upwards as he rested his forehead against Bakura's, their gazes searing into one another's. He spoke quietly, breath mingling in the miniscule compartment of space between them. "Who says I'm yours? Who says it isn't the other way around, and in actual fact it is you that belongs to me?"

Bakura didn't blink; his only motion was a slight tightening of the creases around his eyes. "I'm a thief, Ishtar. I am not stolen; I steal."

"And what, you've stolen me?" Marik couldn't hold back a small chuckle. "You wish."

"Oh, but I have. I have, and I have absolutely no intention of giving you back." Bakura's familiar smirk was back in place as he rolled a little, pulling Marik up and onto his chest. "You're going nowhere, Ishtar."

Marik put up a small show of resistance before collapsing into Bakura's chest, releasing a small contended sigh. He curled up in Bakura's warmth for a moment, allowing himself to relax, before muttering, "I still wish you hadn't told Kek, though. He is going to make our lives hell."

"Your life, maybe." Bakura poked Marik's side, tone sardonic. "Unlike you, I can actually take a joke."

Marik shook his head, resting his chin on Bakura's chest as he stared straight at him, lips curling upwards at the corners. "You say that now. Wait until you've had months of him never talking about anything else, asking about every aspect of our sex lives, making fun over every little thing..."

"Making fun of you," Bakura pointed out slyly, "Which happens to be one of my favourite pastimes."

Marik rolled his eyes, deliberately digging his nails into Bakura's chest as he fixed him with a dark glare. "That's right. I forgot that you're just as much of a prick as my cousin is. Fucking bastards, the pair of you."

"Now, now, Ishtar." Bakura tapped him on the nose playfully, not even batting an eyelid at the scratches pricking at his pale skin. "I thought we were keeping this civil."

"Yes, because civility's your speciality." Marik scoffed, moving to roll off Bakura but finding strong arms preventing him. Marik sighed loudly, struggling. "Get the hell off me, asshole."

"I told you that you weren't going anywhere," Bakura pointed out sagely, dodging Marik's whack.

Marik just grinned. "Well, I was going to make you food, but if you're going to be difficult..."

"Don't you try and threaten me, Ishtar," Bakura growled. "It wouldn't end well for you."

Marik burst into bright peals of laughter, pressing his forehead into Bakura's collarbone and grinning widely. "Oh, Bakura. You can't threaten me anymore, I'm afraid. I know you don't really mean any of it."

"Oh, really?" Bakura's voice was surprisingly chilling, surprising Marik a little, and before he had truly grasped what was happening Bakura had rolled him onto his front and was squatting on Marik's back, capturing his wrists easily and twisting them behind his back.

Marik rolled his eyes, spitting out sheets as he twisted his face in order to speak. "Let go of me, fucking asshole."

"You swear far too much, Ishtar."

"And you call me by my surname far too much!" Having enough of being pinned all the time, Marik kicked back and gave a low crow of triumph when his foot met malleable flesh, eliciting a slight yelp from Bakura. Marik moved the instant he felt the grip on his wrists loosen, kicking himself up off the bed and landing with a small wobble on Bakura's carpet. He span around, instantly crouching, only to find Bakura curled on the bed nursing his stomach, where a clear footprint was making itself known.

Marik couldn't hold back a snort of laughter.

Bakura sent him a dark, dark glare, his brows knitting together as his mouth twisted into a snarl. Unfortunately for Bakura, this only served to increase Marik's laughter. Doubling over and wiping his eyes, Marik eventually gained a little more control over himself and straightened, shaking his head in Bakura's direction. "You're much more of a wimp than I thought you would be."

"Oh, you are fucking asking for it." Bakura lunged off the bed and tackled Marik onto the floor, ignoring his surprised shout as he clamped his lips down on Marik's neck. Marik instantly stopped struggling and instead released a low groan, fingers scrabbling to pull Bakura closer as his sensitive skin was ravaged by skilled lips and teeth. Bakura chuckled darkly against Marik's skin, giving one final lick before pulling back and admiring his handiwork; a rather impressive bruise now stood out against Marik's tan skin. "There, see? Told you that you're mine, Ishtar."

"Fucking asshole." Marik's voice still sounded breathless, though, which rather diminished the usual venom behind his words. His case was helped even less when his scrabbling hands found Bakura's face and lifted him up into a heated kiss.

Bakura allowed Marik to lick away at his tongue for a good minute before pulling away, hoisting himself up to his feet and turning away from Marik. Marik mewled, panting against the carpet and sending beseeching looks in the direction of the pale student, putting on his best pleading expression.

Bakura just laughed when he saw it. "Grow up, Ishtar. Put some clothes on and go make food – I'm going for a shower."

"I'm not your fucking slave," Marik grumbled, getting discontentedly to his feet.

Bakura's dark laugh floated back down from the corridor. "That's what you think, Ishtar!"

"Stop fucking calling me that!" Marik all but shouted the words after the insufferable idiot, grumbling irritably under his breath when he got no response. He hunted through the messy scraps of clothing on the floor until he found items he recognised as his own, tugging them on easily enough before exiting Bakura's room, one hand lingering over the wood of the piano as he passed. Heading into the kitchen, Marik yawned widely and stretched before hunting through the cupboards for anything remotely edible, in the end deciding that eggs on toast would suffice, and if Bakura thought it didn't, then he could damn well make his own.

Marik found himself smiling and humming to himself as he moved around the kitchen, his chest feeling lighter than it ever had before in this Godsforsaken country. He was starting to feel comfortable in this flat, starting to feel as if he had somewhere he belonged, and he knew that Bakura was a huge part of that. To think that Marik could actually be wanted by someone else was a totally alien thought, but it was far from unwelcome. And now that Marik thought about it, Bakura's feelings had been fairly obvious from the start – once you accepted that he was an absolute asshole, that is. Marik found himself grinning a little ruefully. It was no wonder they had argued so much, considering how they always pushed each other's buttons. Marik sighed happily as he worked, feeling months worth of tension rolling away from his shoulders simply at the knowledge that he had somewhere he could call home now.

It wasn't long before footsteps padded back down the hall and into Bakura's room, and soon after that Bakura himself appeared in the kitchen, fully dressed once more. He grinned at the sight of Marik. "That's right, Ishtar; take your rightful place, slaving away at the stove."

Marik turned just enough to give him the finger as he carried on cooking, deeming the eggs almost done and shoving toast onto a plate. "Just be grateful I don't poison your food. Fucking asshole."

"We really are going to have to do something about your swearing," Bakura mused mockingly, taking a seat at the table. He easily dodged the fork Marik chucked at him, chuckling loudly as he rested his chin on one pale hand. "If you're going to persist in throwing things at me, I'm going to chuck you out."

Marik arched an eyebrow as he approached the table with two plates, passing one to Bakura. He couldn't stifle a smirk when he sat opposite Bakura and met his laughing brown gaze, Marik's chin tilting up arrogantly. "Wasn't the whole point of yesterday you telling me just how you wouldn't let me leave? Somehow, I can't see you chucking me out now."

Bakura's brows lowered into a glower.

Marik snorted with laughter, continuing to dig at Bakura even as he started eating. "Yep, you might think you're the one in control here, but I reckon I've got you wrapped around my little finger. Can't live without me, huh?"

"Insufferable brat," Bakura snarled.

Marik just grinned at him.

They ate in comfortable silence until a knock at the door sounded. Both students glared at each other with equal amounts of stubbornness and determination, neither conceding to the other. Bakura spoke first, gesturing imperiously to Marik's empty plate. "You're finished – you go answer it."

"I made the food," Marik disagreed, leaning back and folding his arms. "Besides, as you like to keep pointing out, this is your flat. Whoever's at the door is bound to want you, not me."

Bakura glowered at him as the door was knocked again. Marik glared right back, stubbornly refusing to move, until the knocks increased in volume and frequency. Marik threw his hands up into the air. "Gods, fine! You're such a child sometimes."

"Coming from you," Bakura pointed out with a low chuckle, "That is really rich."

Marik gave him the finger as he exited the kitchen, calling, "If it's Kek come to tease me some more, I am going to fucking kill you." Despite his angry words, though, Marik could feel amusement pulling at the corners of his lips as he threw the door to the flat open wide.

His expression fell immediately when he saw who was waiting for him on the other side.

Spiked hair hanging low over pale skin greeted Marik, a serious expression covering the calm features. Yami looked at Marik with a simple gaze. Silence held in the corridor for a long moment, during which Marik gaped hopelessly, before a calm voice spoke through the slow movements of Yami's lips. "Hello, Marik. You missed lectures this morning."

"Um, lectures?" Marik was still a little startled, his brain working much more slowly than it usually would. "Oh, fuck, lectures! I completely forgot we had them!"

"You also forgot you were meant to move out, it seems," the calm voice spoke again, tinged with a little amusement. "But that aside, I need to talk to Bakura."

Marik instantly blocked the way into the flat, shaking his head; he knew enough by now that mixing Bakura and Yami was never a good idea, and he really didn't want to have to deal with Bakura's anger. Yami heaved a slow sigh, shaking his head. "Marik, I don't care what Bakura told you to get you to stay, but you have got to stop protecting him. He needs to start accepting his responsibilities."

Marik frowned, thoughts racing. "Are you talking about his brother?"

"Let me in, and you'll find out." Yami's lips twitched slightly.

Marik stared at him for a long moment before growling lowly, stepping aside and gesturing into the kitchen. "If he flips, I am blaming you entirely."

Yami just sent him a small smile before opening the door, entering the kitchen with slow steps.

Bakura groaned loudly when he saw who it was, giving Marik a dangerous glare when he entered behind Yami. "What the fuck did you let him in for?"

"You didn't tell me not to," Marik shrugged, eyes defiant.

Bakura rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, rising fluidly to his feet and pointedly making to walk past Yami. Yami stood in his path, eyes clear as he glanced up at Bakura.

Bakura glared back. "The fuck do you want? Get out of my flat."

"Ryou needs to talk to you," Yami started evenly. "I'm going home when term ends at the end of this week, and depending on how ill my Grandpa is, I'll be staying there for the whole of the holidays. Tea's coming to."

Bakura arched a brow, folding his arms. "And this concerns me how?"

"Because if my Grandpa ends up in hospital, Ryou will have nowhere to live." Yami's eyes dulled a little. "You're going to have to take responsibility for him at that point – I've got Yugi to think of."

Bakura released a loud laugh, the sound chilling and dark enough to lift all the hairs along Marik's arms. Marik watched with caution as Bakura and Yami stared each other down, the tension almost visibly crackling between them in the small, stuffy air of the flat. Marik was burning with curiousity, desperate to know what was going on between them, but one look at Bakura's frankly dangerous expression had him deciding against that. Or at least, to wait until Yami was safely out of the way.

As if reading Marik's thoughts, Yami sighed and drew back a step. "Look, I'm just passing on the news. Make of it what you will."

"I just find all this rather ironic, dearest Yami." Bakura's voice was still chillingly amused, practically dripping sarcasm. "After all, you're the one who knows all about family responsibility, right?"

Yami visibly winced, retreating another step, and Bakura released a low dark chuckle. "I think it best if you get out of my flat. And you ever try and tell me what to do again, I really won't hesitate to kill you."

Yami didn't argue; after one last look at Marik, he turned on his heel and left.

Bakura watched him go with a foreign expression covering his features, his lips twisted into an almost feral snarl and his brown eyes burning with a deep, furious intensity. With deliberate, controlled actions, Bakura left the kitchen and firmly locked the flat door, turning back to Marik with a darkly burning glare. "You ever let him in here again, I'll murder you. Slowly."

Marik arched a brow, standing his ground. "What the hell happened between you?"

"None of your damn business." Bakura's voice dripped controlled fury as he turned away from Marik, entering his bedroom. Marik shook his head, determinedly following Bakura even as he attempted to shut the door in Marik's face, sparks flying when their gazes met.

"Let me in," Marik spoke evenly. "It is my business if it concerns you."

Bakura growled. "Drop it, idiot."

"Well maybe I'll just leave, then," Marik shot back angrily. "Seeing as how you clearly don't want me to know anything about you, I'll just cut my losses and go -"

"Fucking brat!" In a flash Bakura had Marik against the wall of the corridor, brown eyes boring into him as he leaned in close. "Don't you dare fucking leave me."

Marik breathed heavily, swallowing as he met Bakura's gaze. He could feel Bakura trembling. Marik shook his head, lifting his hands to catch onto Bakura's shoulders, holding him firmly in place so he couldn't escape his questions. "What gets you so riled about him? Why are you so insecure?"

"I'll show you fucking insecure." The venom had leaked out of Bakura's tone, though, and the pale student sagged a little in Marik's grip.

Marik moved carefully away from the wall, running his hands tenderly down Bakura's arms. With a small sigh, Bakura relaxed a little more, but his brown gaze was still fiery when it brushed Marik's, gaining an edgy glint. Marik didn't complain when Bakura moved closer. Their lips met for only the briefest second before Marik backed up a bit, though, fixing Bakura with a stern glare. "Whatever the hell is going on with you, don't take it out on me."

Bakura shrugged, smirk slowly lifting one corner of his mouth again. "Because you never take any of your problems out on me."

"That's entirely different," Marik sniffed haughtily, quickly getting distracted by the way Bakura's eyes were gleaming. Bakura's smirk stretched as he closed the distance between them, Marik's back finding the wall once more despite his best efforts to avoid it. Marik lifted his chin. "You're still going to tell me what the hell your problem is."

"The fuck I am." Bakura grinned, leaning over Marik with dancing eyes, just out of Marik's reach. Marik's gaze flared up at him, the heat coursing through his veins attempting to convince him to continue the questioning another time. He was only distracted further when Bakura bent enough to attach his lips to Marik's collarbone. Marik couldn't hold back a small groan.

Bakura chuckled darkly. "Just give in, Ishtar."

"Bastard," Marik hissed, grabbing Bakura's face and kissing him forcefully, pushing him backwards. "I'm not finished yet – we'll continue this discussion later, and you are going to tell me what your problem is."

"Unless I distract you again," Bakura laughed against Marik's lips, falling eagerly back into his bedroom door and tugging Marik with him.

So, I'm sorry about the lateness and shortness. I would like to be able to promise a return to long, punctual chapters next week, but it will entirely depend on what my health is doing. Rest assured I will try my best, though, so hopefully see you on Tuesday! - Jem