A/N: this is a strange one-shot that I wrote on a sudden impulse one night. It's…kind of yaoi-ish…and yet kind of not. Basically, I was in a mood to write some yaoi (very unusual – this is the first fic I've written with the aim to write yaoi, seeing as Scarred's antics sort of happened by accident) and this is the result. Mind you, it isn't a sex-mad thing with no plot. At least, I hope it isn't…anyway, review!!!

This is R-rated only because of yaoi (?) and bad language. Also, I'm getting fed up with doing warnings – I reckon that if there is going to be some bad language or whatnot I may as well go ahead and call it an 'R.' At least I won't end up with my fic deleted because I haven't given it the right certificate.

This has just been reposted because cut off half of my summary as I published it, so I hardly got any reviews or anything, because no one knew what it was about. (mumbles incoherently about crappy technology)

…………

Excruciatingly slowly, the wooden door was teased open. A slender white hand groped blindly along the bottom of the cupboard; as the fingers came into contact with the desired object it was drawn slowly out, and a satisfied grunt could be heard.

A second later there came the tinkling sound of smashed china, and the apartment was filled with volleys of Egyptian profanities.

Sighing, Malik put down his book and made his way into the kitchen. He proceeded to scrape away at what had previously been a very delicate and expensive set of china, to reveal the person trapped below. As his fingers touched hair, he seized a fistful of strands and yanked sharply, resulting in an indignant yell.

"Motherfucker! That hurts!"

"So does seeing my best china lying in smithereens all over the kitchen floor." Malik put out a hand, and the spirit of the Millennium Ring took it. He pulled back, and the Egyptian overbalanced and came crashing down on top of him.

"Bastard!"

From underneath him, the spirit grinned, hair flopping into his eyes. He rolled over, shoving Malik beneath him, and attempted to kiss him.

Malik squirmed and edged away from the questing lips. "Stop it."

Bakura frowned. "It's just a kiss."

"I know, I just-" Malik succeeded in freeing himself and stood up, brushing himself down as well as he could.

"Let me help."

"Ow! I'm not that dusty!"

A smirk. "Aww, I'm sorry. You want me to kiss it better?"

"No! Sheesh, what is it with you and that stuff?"

Bakura pouted. "You were the one who said we could give this a go."

"No, that was you. I only agreed to shut you up." Trying unsuccessfully not to feel guilty at the hurt expression on the spirit's face, he bent down and started clearing up the mess.

"Why the hell can't you be gay?" Bakura burst out. "It isn't fair!"

More squirming. "I'm just…not."

In frustration: "How is it possible for there to be so much love in me and so little in you?"

Malik sighed. "Bakura, I like you. Just not in that way." He started winding a strand of hair around his finger, an action which he often performed when feeling awkward, and was totally unaware of how irresistible he looked when doing so. Bakura noticed though, and his eyes grew slightly wider. Malik chose the wrong moment to look up.

"Um, your jaw is hanging open."

The spirit scowled and closed it. Before he could say anything else Malik gave a sad sort of smile and walked back into the lounge. The muscles rippled under his shirt as he moved, and Bakura couldn't help but shiver.

Oh Ra, I just want to tear his shirt off and eat him up but he'll never fucking well let me! He said he'd let me do whatever I want, but shies away even if I try and kiss him! Is he really that straight?

The answer seemed to be yes. Miserably, he kicked at the few shards of china which had been overlooked, and made his way back into the living room, where Malik had spread out over the sofa and resumed reading.

He'd be so good at it too.

Bakura slunk behind the sofa, careful not to let his shadow fall over the Egyptian and thus alert him to his presence. It was so irritating that Malik never wore anything remotely revealing, having long ago given up on the midriff-revealing tops and wearing nothing but shirts nowadays: the material seeming to taunt him by covering up what he was sure was a fantastic body underneath, but had so far been shown no more than tantalising glances.

The black T-shirt had ridden up slightly; showing only a modest amount of back but still enough for Bakura to stare at it hungrily. He rarely got to see this area – Malik was embarrassed about the tattoos carved into his back, and always wore dark clothing so they wouldn't show through. Personally, Bakura thought they just added to all the unique little things that made Malik desirable.

The spirit heaved a tremendous, world-weary sigh at what might have been, the massive amount of exhaled air causing the pages of Malik's book to ruffle and turn back.

"What was that for?"

Bakura gave a disconsolate shrug. "It doesn't matter."

Malik made a slightly exasperated noise. "'Kura, please. This is getting a bit annoying." He turned around, sitting up. "Do you have to stare at me all the time?"

The spirit glared at him sulkily over the top of the sofa. "Stop doing that."

In a genuinely perplexed tone: "What?"

"Everything! You act like I'm committing a crime for being attracted to you but you look so damn sexy all the time I can't help it!"

"I-I am?" Malik looked so innocently confused it took all of Bakura's control not to tear his clothes off.

"Yes! And you're doing it now! You're just like my stupid hikari! He acts all resigned whenever the girls come on to him, but carries on looking so Ra-damn cute! Exactly like you're looking now!"

Malik stared. "…Cute? I thought I looked pissed off, actually."

"You do, and that's what is so irritating about it!"

The Egyptian sounded halfway between impatient and flattered. "'Kura, I think it is really sweet that you have a crush on me or whatever, but I still think you should give it up. Unrequited love is one of the worst kind of mental tortures there are."

"That's because this doesn't have to be unrequited!" Bakura protested. "You're so damn anxious to be straight! You should give being gay a go!"

Massaging his temples: "I don't want to 'give being gay a go.' And I wasn't aware that it was one of the things one has any choice about."

"Fine!" Bakura snapped. "I'll just move out then!"

"For the love of Ra, Bakura, you don't have be in a relationship with someone in order to share an apartment with them."

"I know, but I can't continue living here and having to look at you every day while knowing I'll never have you." The spirit stood up. "I'm going to go and get my keys."

Malik started to remonstrate, but was taken no notice of. With another sigh, he picked up his book and tried to immerse himself in it like before, but his mind couldn't concentrate.

After five minutes Bakura came back, looking sullen. "I can't find them."

"Have you looked in the fruit bowl?"

"Yes."

Malik shrugged and continued reading.

Seeing how occupied he was, Bakura sat down next to him and, very gradually, began to lift up the Egyptian's shirt. Engrossed in his book, Malik didn't feel it. Bakura's hands began to slide underneath the worn fabric until they touched the carvings of the Pharaoh's memories, Electrified by what he was doing, he began to let his fingers rove upwards.

"Eeep!" Malik jolted upright as if he'd just realised he'd been sitting on a firework. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

"I'm looking for my keys," Bakura murmured silkily. "I know I left them around here somewhere…" He began to stroke the skin between the Egyptian's ribs, so soft he felt he could lay his cheek against it; delighting in the alternating sensation of bone, skin, bone.

"Now, where could they be?" Abandoning the ribs for now, he moved upwards and gently ran his fingers up Malik's spine, feeling the tiny nobbles of bone.

Malik let out a peculiar spluttering sound, but the spirit didn't come out.

"You can't tell me you don't enjoy this." Bakura leant over and began to nibble his ear, feeling him paralysed with shock, while the white fingers spasmed in delight as they touched the coveted shoulder blades.

"What, someone eating my ear? I don't think so." The words came out in a mumble, as Malik wriggled and tried to get free, but Bakura persisted.

"Mmm. You have nice shoulders. They feel all creamy."

Slightly defensively: "How would you know? You've never seen them."

"I don't need to." The spirit's fingers moved in gentle circling movements, caressing the base of his neck.

"For the love of Ra, get off me!" Malik grabbed his hands and pulled them roughly off. Bakura stared uncomprehendingly at him, longing still clear on his face.

"I don't love you, okay?" the Egyptian snapped at him. "I never will! Now stop trying to get it off with me!"

Bakura just carried on staring. "B-But you s-said-"

"Fuck that!" Malik yelled. "Why can't you accept a 'no'? Why do you always have to look at me like that; why do you always have to try and kiss me? Can't you just accept that I. Don't. Fucking. Love you?"

The spirit trembled. "I-"

"You want me to kiss you? Well this is how I fucking kiss!" Malik shoved him into the sofa and roughly pressed his lips against Bakura's. The spirit was too shocked to respond – Malik noted this in grim satisfaction and increased the pressure, just so Bakura could look back later and think how Malik had actually kissed him, yet he had simply frozen.

Then he was suddenly grabbed and their mouths collided, only somehow Bakura managed to get his tongue in. Revolted, Malik tried to pull away but couldn't.

Oh fuck it, I've gone and encouraged him now!

Bakura's lips were bleeding; he ran his tongue over them as he paused for breath, before making another desperate lunge. Malik intended to shove him away but somehow wasn't quick enough.

Their lips met again and for some reason Malik made only a half-hearted attempt to fight it; Bakura seemed to pick up on this and deepened the kiss further.

When they finally stopped Malik found himself underneath the Ring-spirit, who had managed to succeed in getting his shirt off, to the latter's delight. After a few moments during which all they could do was pant like exhausted dogs, Bakura said fervently, "Wow."

"Oh shut up."

"You're gay, aren't you?"

"No!"

"Oh come on. Nobody straight reacts like that."

"Wha-what? In case you didn't notice, I was trying to push you off!"

A wink. "That's not what I saw."

Malik tried to scowl at him, but his treacherous lips could only form an incriminating, embarrassed grin.

"Heh. Looks like someone's in denial."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" It came out wrongly: defensive, instead of dismissive.

"Malik is gay, Malik is gay…" Bakura began to chant in a singsong manner.

"Shut up! I'm not gay!"

"Malik is-"

"Shut up!"

Dreamily: "You look beautiful when you're angry."

Malik wanted to hit him. The spirit saw this, and his smirk increased. "Ra, I really do love it when you get annoyed."

"Yeah, yeah, I know: I look so wonderful when I'm pissed off." He couldn't bring himself to say the word 'beautiful.'

"It isn't just that," Bakura said seriously.

"What? I though you only cared about looks."

"Don't be stupid. You're underestimating me if you think that."

"So what else does someone have to have to get your attention?" Malik asked sarcastically. "A big dick?"

"Is that the only sort of thing you think I care about?"

A defensive shrug. "How should I know?"

"My Ra." Bakura stared at him through eyes that were bigger than oranges. "You are underestimating me."

Bitterly: "How do I know that? Every other person I've met who fancied me was only interested in how I look."

"I'm not." Bakura gazed back at him, the familiar wicked gleam temporarily extinguished. "So you're one of those people who pushes others away because of how they've been ill-treated before, right? Trust me to fall for someone like that."

"So when do you want to move out then?"

"Malik! Stop doing that!"

"Doing what?"

"I'm not that kind of person!"

"Humph."

"…You are gay, aren't you?"

"…No," Malik mumbled stubbornly.

"Okay, fine, you're a bit of both. But you're capable of fancying me back if you want to, you kiss better than the rest of Egypt's population which I've met so far, and your shallowness doesn't extend to dinner-plate level. I can live with someone like that. I can fuck with someone like that."

An unintelligible noise. Then: "You're ever so slightly blunt. Did you know that?"

"I've been told." A smile. "Anything else you want to tell me?"

A smile back. "Not in words."

"Fine by me."

………

A/N: This was certainly different from what I usually write…less description and more speech, for one thing. (sigh) Hey, I can experiment with different topics if I want to. This is the first fic of mine which hasn't been either angst or humour. I'd like to know what everyone thinks of this strange little fic, so please review, even if it is to flame me for writing something which is so…different from my normal stuff. (sits back and waits for the flames to pour in)