WARNING: This chapter contains . . . [Language / Mild Sexual Situations]


Edit Update: 1/1/2016

Did some majorly minor editing.


Bakura blinked, as if he had just woken up from a long nap, and what he saw made him wonder if he was dreaming. He was no longer in a torch lit room under the blazing desert sands. He wasn't even in Egypt anymore. The ground gently rocked back and forth beneath him, telling the teenage boy that he was on a ship; and the reason why he could so easily notice this was because he was laying on the floorboards. It didn't take him long to realize what had happened and he groaned, making a mental note to ritualistically murder the writer who had put him here.

"No, Bakura. Don't eat your spaghetti with your mouth open, it gets everywhere. Told you not to do that."

Recognizing the voice, he quickly turned his head and saw Marik, who was also on the floor with him. But his blond companion was asleep, mumbling on about Bakura's lack of eating etiquette while drool dripped from his open mouth, creating a small puddle of saliva.

"Idiot." Bakura mumbled before he sat up and observed their surroundings.

They were in the brig, which was obvious from how small their new living quarters were and the metal bars that prevented them from climbing out of the opening up above them. He got to his feet and brushed straw off of his jeans, jacket, and striped shirt before reaching for the bars. He was the King of Thieves, after all. It should be easy to pick the lock, allowing them to escape and find their way out of this fanfic. After that, he would find that writer and he would bathe his blade in her blood. Unfortunately, the bars were too high up, and there was nothing around to stand on. Nothing except . . .

"Marik." Bakura gently kicked the tanned boy's side. "Wake up, Marik."

"Geez, Bakura. Close your mouth, you're getting spaghetti everywhere." Marik said before rolling onto his stomach and continued to snore away, unaware of what was going on.

There were days when an opportunity like this one would be like a dream come true. The two of them in a locked room together with no Pharaoh or Yugi in sight. But this was not one of those days.

Bakura grabbed Marik by the hair, lifting his head off of the ground, and then he let go, causing Marik's face to hit the floor with a loud thud.

"Ow!" Marik sprang up into a sitting position and rubbed his throbbing forehead. "What hit me?" He looked up at Bakura, who merely glared back at him. "Did you get the number of that truck?"

"Get over here." Bakura demanded, crossing his arms as he looked at the metal bars. "I need to stand on your shoulders so that I can get to that lock."

"You expect me to let you stand on my gorgeous self? I think not, bitch."

"I'm the only one who can unlock it."

"What makes you think I can't unlock it?"

Bakura cocked an eyebrow. "I highly doubt that you can."

"Of course I can!" Marik held up his hands. "I have very nimble fingers."

Bakura chuckled at this, remembering the last time Marik had said that while playing one of his video games. But when he saw the look of annoyance on Marik's face, who didn't appreciate being laughed at, he coughed and pulled out an old leather pouch from his pocket that contained his burglary tools before throwing it to his companion, who was just barely able to catch it.

"Have at it." Bakura told him before standing under the blocked off opening, where he knelt down. "Get on."

It didn't take long for Marik to climb onto his shoulders and soon Bakura was standing again, trying to keep his balance as the blond boy picked at the lock, occasionally cursing and stepping on Bakura's head as he did. This went on for quite some time, and soon enough, Bakura's legs felt like they were going to completely give out.

"Aren't you done yet?" Bakura grumbled. If he had been the one doing it, they would have been back in Egypt by now.

"Silence!" Marik exclaimed. "You're breaking my concentration!"

As Marik worked, Bakura realized that despite their current closeness he didn't feel any of his usual sexual desires for the boy, who was practically hopping up and down on his shoulders - which were screaming in protest as Marik's boots dug into them. But of course, pain will do that to you. And besides, Bakura reminded himself, he had stopped trying a long time ago - except for the occasional flirtation, which were more out of habit than anything. He had realized over time that nothing would ever change, and Marik's reaction to that chapter his future victim had written had put a stamp on the fact. He shook his head. Why did he keep reminding himself of this? They would never be together. After Marik accidentally kicked the back of his head, he told himself that he was done. From now on he would cast aside all of his feelings for him and-

"Oops."

"What?" Bakura asked before he saw his thief kit being dragged downward by gravity. Apparently Marik's not-so-nimble fingers had dropped them.

Before he could react, Marik reached down to grab them, losing his footing in the process. Bakura let his reflexes take over and caught him, wrapping his arms around Marik's midsection. It took the white haired boy a moment to realize that they were currently in the 69 position.

"Nice catch, Bakura!" Marik cheered. "I feel like we're in Cirque du Soleil or something!"

Bakura didn't answer. He couldn't answer as his mind ran wild with all of those repressed daydreams that were of the 18+ rating. He quickly released him, letting Marik land on the floor as he hurried over to one of the wooden support columns and began hitting his head against it, wondering if this was what crack addicts felt when they broke out of the habit only to be tempted back into it.

"Bakuraaaa!" Marik whined as he got back up. "Why did you do that?!"

"Maybe I thought the fall would knock the stupidity out of you." Bakura lied as he rested his head on the column, refusing to face Marik until he regained his composure.

Marik picked up Bakura's leather pouch. "Are we going to try again?"

After letting out a deep sigh and ramming his forehead once more against the column, he turned around and walked up to Marik before yanking the pouch out of the tanned boy's hand. "I'll do it this time."

He expected Marik to protest, but instead he simply said a drawled out "Okay" before bending down to let Bakura climb onto his shoulders.

Bakura got on, pulled out the right tool, stuck it into the lock, and within seconds he was lifting up the bars and climbing out of their prison. The night air wasn't as good as a cold shower but it would have to do for now.

As dark clouds began to form overhead, Bakura made his way across the deck and latched onto the ship's railing, watching the waves crash against the starboard side of the mighty vessel. He almost felt tempted to jump into the ocean and imagined himself sinking into its depths, letting the waters surround him and cloud his mind of everything; eradicating those vivid memories of watching his family's blood flow in a seemingly endless cascade; of all the times he stood before the Pharaoh before falling to his knees, shame and broken pride washing over him and consuming his mind, making the darkness in his heart grow stronger as he cursed both his opponent and himself for failing yet again; of that moment when he realized that being with Marik somehow made the world seem a little more bearable.

"Wow, Bakura!" Marik's loud voice brought him back to reality. "That was amazing!"

"Not really." Bakura tried to say nonchalantly, but he could feel a slight smile creep onto his pale face. It wasn't often that Marik complimented him. "It was child's play for the King of Thieves."

Marik wrapped his arm around Bakura's and grabbed his Millennium Rod, pointing it at the stars that were feebly attempting to shine through the clouds that were taking over the sky. "If you are the King of Thieves, then I am the King of Steves!"

"What?"

"Oh, oh, oh, oh!" Marik raised his hand like an eager child in class who was confident that he knew the answer to the teacher's question. "I know how we can defeat the Pharaoh once and for all! We will find a guy named Steve and after you unlock Yugi's front door, I will command Steve to go in and TP Yugi's living room! And while Yugi is cleaning it up, we will sneak inside and-!"

Bakura placed his hand over Marik's mouth, cutting him off. "That's all well and bad Marik, but right now we have to be quiet and get out of here."

"Right." Marik said, looking out at the rough waters. "Do you have Aquaman's phone number?"

Bakura pointed at a rowboat.

"What is his phone number doing in a boat?"

"We are going to get in the boat, Marik!" Bakura could feel his frustration rising to new heights. "Just get in!"

"Okay."

As Marik made his way to the rowboat while singing random songs to himself, Bakura began stealing whatever supplies he could find, putting them next to Marik and slapping the boy's hand whenever he tried to eat them. While carrying the last load, he felt something nudge his back. Did one of the crewmen wake up? But if that were the case, wouldn't he have woken everyone up, letting his shipmates know that their prisoners were trying to escape? Bakura turned around, mentally preparing himself to drop the box and grab his knife to slit their throat, and found himself face-to-face with a large white horse, who was eying the crate of apples that Bakura was holding.

Marik gasped and ran over to the stallion. "Artax!"

Bakura rolled his eyes, remembering that day when they had watched The Neverending Story together. Marik had cried while Bakura laughed when the horse sank into the quicksand. "Marik, that is not-"

Marik hugged the animal's neck and began to sob. "Artax! Stupid horse!"

"We have to go, Marik." Bakura grabbed the hood on the boy's crop-top and began to drag him away.

"Can we keep him?" Marik asked.

"No."

"Oh, come on. Don't be such a frigging party-pooper."

"Would you please be quiet? You'll wake up everybody."

"Bakuraaaa!"

"For the last bloody time-!"

Bakura couldn't quite remember what had happened after that. All he knew was that now he was sitting in a rowboat, along with an Egyptian boy - whom he was trying to keep his distance from to prevent his feelings from boiling over - and a horse that was currently trying to eat their food supply.

When the horse - whose name was now Artax - tried once again to grab an apple, Bakura pulled out his knife, and the horse stopped when he saw the look on the boy's face. All of Bakura's frustrations, anger, annoyance, and forcefully repressed hormones had all mixed together like an evil witch's brew and had given birth to a bloodthirsty rage that sent a shiver down the horse's spine.

"Touch that and we will be having horse meat for dinner." Bakura told him in a menacing tone of voice that would give even Boris Karloff nightmares, and Artax quickly sat at the other end of the boat.

When their miniature vessel hit the water, Marik raised his hands up in the air, as if he were in a roller coaster. "Whee! Turn on the motor at full blast!"

"What motor?"

"That motor."

Bakura looked at where Marik was pointing and, sure enough, there was a boat motor sitting there. He decided not to question it and turned it on. As they sped off, Marik sat at the very front, letting the wind blow his hair in every direction as he laughed in delight and spouted out random quotes from Captain Phillips. Bakura shook his head at the boy's antics as he wondered why, out of all the people in the world throughout his five thousand year old life, he had to fall head-over-heels for someone like Marik.

He gazed out at the rising sun, and it somehow reminded him that even if they did somehow end up together, it would not last. Bakura had all the time in the world - as long as he was able to find new hosts to possess - but Marik's hourglass would someday run out of sand, and he would soon be forgotten by the world. Just another corpse to add to the pile. He lowered his head and wondered if the Heavens had cursed him to this fate of loneliness. First he had lost his entire village, and someday Marik would also . . .

"Bakura!"

He looked up and noticed that it was raining. When did that happen?

"Are you still alive, Bakura?"

"Do I look like I'm dead to you?"

"You were just sitting there all quiet and staring at nothing. I thought you had turned into a zombie or something. You didn't get bit by Zombie Boy, did you?"

"No, Marik. I did not."

"Well that's good." Marik stood up and Bakura watched the raindrops travel down the boy's exposed midriff. "I don't think I could handle a Zombie Bakura. You would probably keep trying to eat my brains or something. 'Cause you know what they say: The smarter the person, the tastier the brains."

Bakura felt tempted to say that that would mean Marik's brain would taste like moldy feet, but he kept it to himself. "You should probably sit down."

"You're not my real dad! You can't tell me what to do!" Right after saying this, their boat hit a wave and Marik lost his balance, causing him to fall over. Bakura laughed as he watched Marik attempt to get back up only to trip over his own feet until the Egyptian gave up trying to stand altogether and sat next to his partner in crime as he rubbed his bare arms. "Has the sky sprung a leak or something?! Where is all this water coming from, anyway?! Is it God's tears or something?! Why?!"

"You mean you have never seen a rainstorm before?" Bakura asked.

"I've never seen a rain anything." Marik's teeth began to chatter as he scowled and Bakura tried not to laugh at how ridiculous he looked. "I spent almost my entire life living underground, and even when I came out it was always sunny. I just assumed that even the sun couldn't take his eyes off me."

"Maybe this storm wanted a turn to look at you." Bakura said as he noticed that the boy's hair was sticking to his face and black eyeliner was cascading down his cheeks. He looked like a schoolgirl who had been dumped on prom night.

Marik sneezed. "I guess I can't blame him. Maybe I should make people pay money to look at me. Like, maybe I could get one of those boxes on sticks with the curtains and you can carry me around and when someone wants to look at me I-I-Ah-choooo!" He sniffed. "Bakura, make the rain stop."

"How would I even do that?"

"I don't frigging know. Do a rain dance or something."

"Marik, I'm not Native American, I'm British. I mean Japanese. No, Egyptian. What the bloody hell am I?"

"These are going to take forever to dry." Marik said as he looked at his soaked cargo pants before sneezing again. "Aren't you cold, Bakura?"

"Not really." He was, but he could hide it better than his companion.

"I'm singing in the rain." Marik sang. "Singing in the-Ah-choooo! Oh, this is ridiculous." He looked at Bakura. "Raise your arm."

"Why should I-?" Bakura froze up when Marik pressed his wet body against his, leaving no space between them. "Marik, what are you doing?"

"I need to suck your body heat."

"Then why don't you go over there and sit next to the horse?"

"I can't feel my legs."

"Oh." Bakura said as he awkwardly tried to decide if he should put his arm on Marik's shoulders or not. He decided to go with the latter.

"You don't have a lot of heat to suck." Marik pointed out.

"I guess my body is as cold as my heart. If I had a heart." Bakura said with a chuckle before he heard snoring and saw that Marik had fallen asleep, his head resting on Bakura's shoulder. He smiled slightly and placed his head against Marik's as Artax rolled his eyes, snorting at them before lazily placing his muzzle over the side of the boat to watch the waves roll by. Bakura looked up at the sky as darkness loomed over them. "I guess this curse isn't so bad."

"Didn't your mother ever tell you how to eat?" Marik said in his sleep. "Oh, she died? Probably from embarrassment 'cause you can't eat frigging spaghetti."

"Idiot."