Her Sweetness: Yeah, hey again. Listen, I know some people are probably reading this and are thinking "What the hell does the fruit tangerine have to do with this story?" And I shall tell you the answer right now…

Absolutely nothing.

On with the story!


Tangerine

The Boy Is Mine:

"Shut up."

"No, you shut up."

"Why don't you shut up?"

That's what Malik woke up to on Friday morning. The light from a rising sun came in through his window, lighting up the room and it hit the young boy's eyelids. His eyes fluttered open slowly and there before him were two other boys. Bakura and Marik were sitting on the edge of his bed, beginning their sissy-fight, and calling each other names. It was only when they saw Malik sitting up did they stop to greet him properly.

"… Hi, Malik." They said in unison.

"What are you doing in here!" He blushed a crimson red, pulling up his purple cover to his chin, "Get out right now!"

"I tried to tell him to stay out but he came in here." Marik glared at the pale boy next to him, who returned the glare shortly, then looked back to Malik.

Bakura whined, "I just wanted for you to wake up, 'cause I'm bored."

Malik scowled at them both and kicked them onto the floor, "G-Get out of here so I can at least get dressed, okay? Jeez!"

"Hey…" Bakura tilted his head, and crawled a bit closer to the bed, "I didn't know you slept… naked, Malik. Awesome."

Marik growled, "And you never should've known!"

"Oh yeah! I bet you didn't know!"

"Of course, I knew, you ding-bat! He hangs out with me more than you!"

"You call that hanging out? I call that forcing someone to kill and maim when they don't want to!"

"Like you have any right to talk! You kill and maim all the time!"

"On my own free will!"

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" Malik yelled, his face red as a tanned cherry. He threw pillows at both of them till they stumbled backwards into the hallway. Before they could object or offer to help out, Malik slammed the door in their faces and turned around. Now naked in the sanctity of his own space, he fished around in his closet for some clothes.

'Good grief…' Malik sighed while tugging on his t-shirt, 'I don't get it. It's like World War 3 is taking place and I have no idea which country has started it… Wait, what?' He groaned, knowing that he was only succeeding in confusing himself. When his shirt and shorts were on, he opened the door to his room and looked down at two boys who were waiting patiently at his feet, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

"… What are you two doing?"

"Waiting for you, silly!" They shrieked and each yami grabbed an arm and began to pull. With Bakura tugging on Malik's left arm, and Marik tugging on his right, Malik was floating in mid-air, sliding left and right.

"Damn it, Bakura, let go! He's coming with me!"

"Why don't you let go? Malik wants to come with me!"

"I want to be on the GROUND!" Malik yelled, calling their attention and they slowly dropped him. He mumbled a thank you and cleared his voice, "Now… I can't go playing with anybody, today. I have stuff to do."

"I'll help you!" They volunteered in unison.

Malik sighed. "W-Well… I suppose I could use some help. I need to finish a few outfits I didn't yesterday. But Marik, you're going to have to help too, because there's too much-"

"I'm on it!" Marik smiled and ran forward, upstairs towards Malik's special room.

Bakura frowned as he and Malik walked up behind him, "… Aw, why does he have to help too? I can do a good job, Malik!"

"I know. But, like I was saying before, I have more outfits than you could possibly wear. This'll mean I can get it done faster and get on to my next activity."

"…Okay…"

When they got inside, Malik pulled up another chair for Marik to stand on, but first he had to put them each in clothes that he needed to fix. Marik got a black prom dress and Bakura was in a matching tuxedo. Malik decided to go easy on his yami and leave the high heels and corsage out. They both had absolutely dangerous looks on their faces, and any other person who looked at them would've peed in his pants by now. But Malik simply contained his giggles and continued his work.

"Don't move, Marik, or I might-"

"OW!"

"I told you not to move…" Malik took the pin out of his yami's bellybutton and carelessly wiped the blood off onto his shirt and continued sewing.

Marik was holding back a few tears. That pin hurt. Bakura noticed this and began to taunt him, "What's wrong, Marik? A little pin too much for the mighty future world ruler?"

"Shut it."

"Nya nya! Marik is a little- OW!"

Malik blinked, "Sorry. Don't move."

"In your face, Tomb Robber!" Marik chuckled to himself. He knew his hikari did that on purpose. He had to… didn't he? After all, this was his job. Whenever something bad happened to a yami, his hikari would be obligated to protect him. Though, he wasn't sure if that applied to fashion design.

"Ah." Malik stood up and smiled, "Perfect! Look at how good you look."

"Thank you." Both yamis said with pride.

Marik gritted his teeth, "He was talking to me…"

"Pheh… Yeah, right. Why would he talk to you? You're in an ugly old prom dress!"

"And you're in an ugly old tuxedo!"

"Ah… Hey! I made those ugly old things you're talking about!" Malik put his hands on his hips, glaring at them both who apologized repeatedly. Malik sighed, "… Okay. Listen, I need you to-"

Before he could carry on, Malik noticed how Bakura and Marik were elbowing each other, muttering something to each other and obviously it was something insulting because of the growls that came with each remark. Malik was about to put a stop to it but, suddenly, Marik lunged at Bakura, tackling him to the floor. They spent about a minute slapping each other horribly, hoping to break a jaw or two. Then Bakura, kicked Marik off of him and proceeded to rip the top of his dress off. Marik, for a minute, thought he actually had boobs and hid his chest, squealing. But once he realized he was a boy, he ripped the bowtie off of Bakura, taking his jacket as well.

It was like mud-wrestling. Minus the mud and nudeness. As they continued to knock each other's brains out, Malik finally noticed that it was his clothes that they were ripping off of each other. He jumped in the middle of them and yelled at the top of his lungs, "STOP!"

Immediately, Marik stopped punching and Bakura stopped kicking, only stopping for fear of hitting Malik. They each looked down at their bodies and new why Malik had stopped them.

"…Oops."

"OUT! OUT! OUT!"

Both yamis quickly scurried out of the room. It slammed behind them and a stream of obscenities echoed and were running through their ears. Marik and Bakura's names were also used a numerous amount of times and they cringed each time they heard their name called, accompanied by a (bleep) or a (bleep).

"Uh… do you think he's mad at us?"

"… He's mad at you."

"Oh! And why not you?"

"Listen." They both pressed their ears to the crack of the door and then Bakura finished saying, "Cause he's saying your name more than mine."

"Yeah… well, when he says my name, it's a call of praise."

Bakura rolled his eyes and slumped down, whining softly at the door. A few minutes past, and the screaming stopped. Both boys noticed the lack of angered shrieks and waited for something… anything to happen. Suddenly, the door slowly opened and Malik walked out, pasted the yamis and downstairs.

"U-Uh, Malik…!" Marik called, walking downstairs after his hikari and Bakura in tow. "Malik, are you mad?"

He turned around, causing both Marik and Bakura to stop in their tracks, waiting for a reaction. Malik sighed in defeat, "… No, Marik. I'm not mad… at either of you. The outfits weren't exactly what I wanted anyway. Besides that, I should've known better. Like I said before, you plus Bakura equals fiery explosion… Or ruined prom dresses."

"… Don't forget the tux." Bakura added.

Marik elbowed him.

Malik nodded, "The tux, too. Anyway, I have something to do in the kitchen, so I'll see you later." He trotted into the kitchen and Bakura and Marik walked in after him. Malik was already taking out pots and pans and assorted ingredients, for what the boys didn't know.

"I'll help you!" They shouted, scaring Malik half to death, for he was not aware of their presence.

"N-No way. Uh-uh. I'm not going to let you guys destroy my apple pie as well!"

Marik blinked, "A-Apple pie…?"

"That's right." He pointed out the window, "You know that old lady down the street? She's always bruised and beaten up, so I take it upon myself to bake stuff for her. And she always likes it."

Bakura turned to Marik, "Isn't that the old woman you two harass and beat up all the time."

"Yeah."

"Ugh." Malik shuddered, "That's why I do this. To make up for our… beatings." He turned around and got out a few apples from the refrigerator. Just about to peel them, Malik took out a knife and looked over to the left. He sighed when he saw two pairs of large, glossy eyes starring at him. One pair a deep purple and the other a soft brown. They were even whining.

Malik groaned, "Oh, stop it…! Look, if you really want to help and you swear you won't fight, I guess… you can peel the apples."

"YAY!" They flounced around the room and grabbed knives, causing Malik to duck for his own safety. Then Marik grabbed an apple and began to vigorously cutting into it. Bakura did the same and soon apple peels were littering the floor. Malik frowned and sighed, 'They better pick those up.'

While Malik was baking the crust, he overheard a small conversation that his yami and Bakura were having. They were whispering, hoping that Malik wouldn't notice. Marik was grinning at his friend, "Hey, Bakura… I bet I can cut faster than you."

"Oh, yeah? Fine, then. On the count of three."

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

At once, both boys started to furiously race the knives around the apples, chopping off most of the apple and not the skin. After nearly two seconds, they threw the scarred and scraped apples onto the floor. Marik yelled, "I won!"

"You did not! I threw mine down about a millisecond before you!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"You guys, stop-" Malik began but was stopped when both boys held their knives in front of his face to stop his advances. Malik thought for a minute that he was going to faint. Bakura then shook his knife in Marik's face, yelling, "No way! I won and that's that! Isn't that right, Malik!"

"Well, I don't really-"

Marik growled and stuck his knife to Bakura's nose, "No, Malik knows that I won! Isn't that right, Malik!"

"You see, I can't-"

All of a sudden, Bakura jumped on Marik and they rolled onto the floor punching and kicking. Malik was in hysterics, he thought for sure this would be the end of it. With those knives in their hands, they could kill each other. If Bakura dies, Ryou will come back and kill him. And if Marik dies, Malik would have to kill Bakura and Ryou would come home and kill him. Either way, he's going to die if those two each other. "S-STOP! PLEASE STOP, PLEASE!"

Both boys barely ceased their fighting this time and continued. Malik decided the only way was to jump in again and so that's what he did. Hoping that he wouldn't get stabbed, he threw himself into the fight and screamed again, "STOP!" Marik and Bakura stopped and looked at Malik who was shielding himself with his hands.

"Malik!" Marik yelled, "That was dangerous, you idiot, you could've been killed!"

"Oh Ra…" Bakura threw his knife onto the floor and sighed, in a disbelieving tone, "I could have totally stabbed him…!"

Malik panted as he stood up, "W-Well, I'm sorry but I would've died either way! If Bakura died, Ryou would've killed me and if Marik died… Well either way I'd die by Ryou's hand! I-I mean, I've got one yami who wont stop picking fights with the other and I've got another yami who complains about nothing at all! I can't handle this!"

Bakura tilted his head, "Which one am I?"

That's when Marik blew up. He looked at Malik while pointing at Bakura, who was still sitting on the floor, "That's it! Malik! You do not have TWO yamis! You have only one! See? One! And that's me! And you, Bakura, I thought you were my best friend! You're totally trying to steal my hikari, and I'm not going to let that happen! You hear me? Malik is mine! All mine!"

He threw his knife to the opposite side of the room, which broke the window and he stormed off into the living room, yelling over and over again, "Mine, all mine!"

Malik threw his hands up in exasperation, "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THIS HOUSE!" Screaming even more when he remembered the apple pie crust, burning in the oven.