A/N: Sorry for the wait, been preoccupied lately by video games and homework and er. . .love troubles. But let's forget about that. Just enjoy the fic (even though it sucks. I personally like my original stories).

DISCLAIMER: As constantly mentioned, I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!

For you, I would Crossdress

By Tat Claire Kokoro

Chap 4. Bitter temptation

/If the baby does no stop crying an screaming: it is Lamatsu "the kidnapper", hand of Ishtar, daughter of Anou./

-Labat, T.D.P. [221,28]

I wake up late, ghosts still drifting through my mind in their slow way. With the ghosts walking from the daylight with my dreams, I try to grasp the ethereal strands of it. No such luck. Old Shut-eye has already snatched it from conscious.

I get out of bed and change into a pair of jeans and a simple white shirt. Boy's clothes. NOT girls.

Then I wobble down the stairs, my mind groggy and my legs wobbling like jello. Despite all this, I manage to make a quick breakfast of Eggo Waffles and a glass of milk.

The waffles taste bland, like there's something missing. I glance at the pantry. Shame, there's no syrup. Bakura ALWAYS makes a grab for the sugary mixture and drowns his waffles. Syrup or not, I eat the bland food, reminding myself bitterly to buy groceries today.

Most of my Saturdays are spent at school. But today is a holiday, leaving me with plenty of free time. I don't bother knocking on Malik's door. Like every Saturday his motorcycle is sprawled on the lawn, the dirty blonde leaning over it, either making improvements or fixing a loose screw.

I go around the backyard and sit next to him. He's unusually quiet. There's no "Hi Ryou!" Maybe he didn't notice me?

"Morning."

". . ." He continued tinkering.

I gave a dramatic sigh, and he turned around. "Sorry, I noticed you. It's just, I was trying to concentrate."

I carefully lean over his bike (making sure not to be in his way), "you must've been working her too hard for you to say you need to concentrate."

My crush sighed soulfully. "Poor KOS MOS. . ." He patted his set of wheels and went inside his house. I trailed behind him.

Once inside he takes his violet belly shirt off and flings it in a corner of the kitchen. Oh Goddess. . .I think I'm going to drool. Ur. . .I know I've seen him shirtless, in fact, I've EVEN seen him naked from time to time. But the effect it has on me is the same. Saliva drips (I think) down my chin while Malik makes a small trek to the fridge and takes a sip of his coconut juice.

Coconut juice is now dripping on his chin . . .

"Ryou, you're foaming at the mouth again. Are you SURE you don't have rabies?"

"I'm . . .I'm sure." I stutter, wiping the 'foam' off with the back of my hand.

"Well, I'm going to take quick shower." He hands me his can of coconut juice and hurries up the steps. "You can have the rest."

I stare at the can of juice. Is he serious? I take a small sip, the taste of coconut flooding my mouth. Is this what Malik tastes like now, coconut? I'm about to drink more when I hear yelling upstairs.

"Isis! Where's my rubber duckie?!"

"Oh that old thing? I threw it away."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! How am I going to sing the 'Rubber Duckie' song without 'Mr. Squeaky'?!" Malik wails dramatically. I sweatdrop. This is one of those days where I desperately ask the Goddess. "Why?! Why THIS psycho?"

"You can sing the Rubber Duckie song without it."

"No I can't!"

"Do I HAVE to get up there and bathe you myself?!" Isis growls.

"Get Mr. Squeaky and you won't have to."

"Ugh. . ." she says disgusted, "it's your damn squeaky duck. You get it."

"I would . . .IF I WAS the ONE who THREW it AWAY!!!!"

Long, disturbing silence. A minute later the house is filled with Arabic curses and more yelling. As soon as the argument is stared it's stopped. I hear the faint sound of water running and the screech of the showerhead. For once I don't hear Malik's voice belting out the lyrics to the Rubber Duckie song.

I set the can of juice on the table, and decide to go into Malik's room. His shower may take awhile.

I always looked over my shoulder when in Malik's room. There was something about it. . .like the atmosphere, the aura changed.

What was different about this room? When you entered, it was like going through ancient temple doors, the smell of long burnt out incense loitered in the air and a sense that rituals had taken place.

As foreign as this atmosphere was, it felt strangely familiar. Like I had been in a different room that had this . . .ancient aura. My eyes saw a bed, modern conveniences (clock, stereo, C.D.'s, etc.) but my other five senses gave me a different image. Desert sand . . .an aged temple, chants and prayers to endangered (Ref. 1.) Gods and Goddesses. . .

I went into this room to borrow a book while I waited. This room was different, like I mentioned. You couldn't JUST walk in and out of this room without being trapped in it's veil.

"Ryou?" I jumped, meeting Malik's confused gaze. "Are you all right? You were just standing there."

I slowly nodded, just now coming out of my daze.

Wrapped around Malik's waist is a towel, barely clinging. His back is against the wall, hiding the burden of the scriptures. Malik is naturally immodest. If Isis wasn't there with her authority, her brother would go outside in. . . well. . .nothing.

One thing he won't bare is his back. Not even to his sister. Isis told me that it was a painful experience when he got those scars. Both mentally and physically.

"Don't look." He orders before turning his back to me.

I look away while he shuffles some clothes from his closet and drops them on his bed. When he says I can look I lift my head from the comfort of the pillows.

"What should I wear?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Who are you dressing up for?"

"My date," he says vaguely.

My interest sparks. "What's she like?"

Malik pokes through his clothes. "Long silvery hair, deep brown eyes-now that I think about it. . ." He cocks his head to the side. You resemble her . . .the spittin' image. Except, she has a HUGE rack."

I shift around uneasily. This could be it. Malik is going to realize I'm the 'girl' at the racetrack and then. .. I don't know what! A throaty laugh and total humiliation? Or a dead, dead, Ryou? My head gracing the Ishtar house's trophy wall, right next to a stuffed moose. Don't want that, Mooses are scary.

"Wouldn't it be funny if YOU crossdressed and turned out to be that girl?" He laughs. I do the same, nervously.

Time to leave. Remain here longer and I'll be found out. I get off the bed. "I have to go get groceries. Bye." All this I said in a rush.

"Wait! You didn' t pick an outfit."

I don't bother to pick an outfit or pause at the door, I'm so scared that I rush out of the house. . .

Groceries in my arms, I arrive home. Bakura is lounging on the couch, watching T.V. Bottles of sake are nearby, the stench of alcohol is strong. From experience, I know not to bother him or say anything to my dark. I quietly unbag groceries, surprised that he says nothing even when I go upstairs.

I'm beginning to reconsider going on that date. Not only is there that possibility that Malik knows, my conscious is telling me I'm letting my desires get out of hand.

I stop at Amane's room. Shadows' casting upon shadows and cool air floating along . . .not that it was any different when my sister was alive. I just find it creepy to see the lights always off, the lack the human presence. Complete vacancy.

"Forget it, Ryou," I tell myself. "No more deception." And I walked away from the room, making sure I entered mine. I'd sleep the rest of the day. That way, I won't be tempted to go on that date.

Things weren't that easy. The numbers on my clock blinked in my face, I was itchy all over and I think there was a leaky facet in the bathroom. Then there was also the fact I wasn't sleepy.

"Nyooo." A drawled-out meow made me get up.

"Cunie?"

"Nyoooooo!!!" the calico cried. Her meows were from a nearby room. I shuffled out, following the cat calls to my sister's room. (Coincidence?)

"Nyooo!!!"

"Cunie?" A cautious question. Maybe she wasn't in that room?

"Nyo! Nyoooo!!!"

Okay . . .she IS in there. I took a big gulp before entering. Coldness and the scent of vanilla washed over me.

"Nyooo!!!" It's coming from the closet.

"How'd you get up there?" I opened the closet and spread my arms out. "Jump!"

With that, the calico leapt from the closet, landing in my arms. I set her down. Now that I was in here temptation was gnawing harder at me. And winning.

In the closet were Amane's clothes, colors ranging from bloody red to midnight black: the only colors she would wear after mother died.

I chose the outfit that seemed less Goth than the others. A short black dress with a little bit of a frill. Next to it was a pair of black wings with flicks of red between velvet feather (I took that too).

"Just this one time. I'll go."

"Gah! Hurry Ryou! Hurry!" Rain was pouring in all directions like a monsoon. I had no umbrella and was left to soak while I charged to 'Pwee?!' the beef bowl restaurant. The restaurant lights were bright, and the steam rising from the bowl of noodles seemed to so warm and inviting. That'd be nice to have . . .a warm beef bowl to drive the chill out of you. Beef bowl restaurants aren't fancy, but they are cheap and on a rainy day like this, they warm the body up

Don't beef bowls HAVE meat in them? Now that I think about it, isn't Malik vegetarian? So why is our dat here, in a place that serves bowls of noodles with chunks of meat inside?

"Konnichiwa!" A petite hand waves in my face. I look down at Yugi, his tri-colored hair hidden by his umbrella.

"Hi. . ."

"How was the date?"

I tell him it hasn't started yet.

"Oh . . ." he says, disappointed, then take a long look at the pair of black and red feather wings on my back. "Nice wings . . .are you cosplaying?"

I sweatdrop, "No, I wore these because I thought they were cute."

"They are." Yugi checks the time, his eyes widen briefly. "I have to go!" And he runs off under the small shelter of his umbrella.

I wait another fifteen minutes outside the restaurant under the overhang. The black dress I'm wearing is halfway dry, but I still have that sticky feeling on my skin.

The clock tells me Malik is an hour late. Doesn't surprise me, he can be easily distracted. Oh well, I'll just wait thirty more minutes inside the beef bowl place.

Which I'm about to do. I push on the door, the tinkling of bells welcoming me. I take another glance at the sidewalk, in case Malik has arrived. The sidewalk is bare of his presence. All I see is a couple making out and a drunk ambling down the street.

I sigh and look the other way. Perhaps he went the long way. No. . . no sign of tan skin and layers of dirty blonde hair. There's only a cat and-wait! There he is!

I pull myself from the doorway and bound towards him, completely ignoring the pouring rain.

-No characters were harmed (physically) in the making of this fanfic. Tat is not responsible for mental breakdowns.-

A/N: Okay! I haven't done this in a while. I'm having a small contest. You know how Malik called his motorcycle, "KOS-MOS" well it's a character from a series. Figure out where this character came from and you gets a special prize.

Good lucks!

Ref 1.- what I means by endangered Gods and Goddesses is that their follower's faith in them is slowly dying. Which means, they are slowing fading away. (I hope you get that)